Ghost Stories
by ImaSupernaturalCSI
Summary: A teenaged vampire set on revenge, ghosts that aren't ghosts, Sam and Dean Winchester, a proposal...sea monsters? It's gonna be an interesting week. DL, Fiesta, MP, Xover with Supernatural. NEW ENDING ADDED 26 May 2008.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: For everyone who started reading "Ghost Stories" before, here's what happened: LIFE got in the way and I totally realized that I forgot where I was going with this story. Add to it that I started working on a story in another section and the "National Treasure" plot bunny sort of pushed the "CSI:NY" one out of the way. This is the same "Ghost Stories" you were reading before, just new and improved. It's still a crossover with "Supernatural." Dean is still going to annoy the heck out of Don Flack, because I love writing sarcastic fights! And now that I have time to work on this story, chapters will come faster and I won't get stuck halfway through; in fact, I'm almost finished with the rewrite!**

**If you're just joining this crazy ride, then you can disregard all of the stuff I said above this. You might want to go read "Darkness Falls" which is the precursor of sorts to this story. Just a suggestion.**

**A random note: Writer's block is mean and evil.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY; they are property of Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. I also don't own the boys of "Supernatural," they belong to Eric Kripke and the WB.**

**---------------------------------------------------CSI:NY---------------------------------------------**

**Chapter One:**

"This place is frickin' creepy." Jessica Anders hugged herself and shivered as she stepped through the hole that used to be a doorway. "Explain to me why we're here again?"

Her boyfriend, Justin Kelso, turned around and stuck the flashlight under his chin, casting his face in sharp shadows. "We're here to find the ghost of Doc Smithers. They say every full moon he appears. Some say he's still killing people."

High-pitched laughter filled the air. "Justin, you are _so_ lame," his sister Anna chortled. "There's no such thing as ghosts, and this whole place is just a burned-out mental hospital. That's it. Nothing supernatural about it."

"Dude, Smithers is the real-freaking-deal," Justin countered. "There's a bet going around school- hundred bucks for a picture or proof that Smithers is still here."

_This isn't worth a hundred bucks_, Jessica thought to herself.

Situated right on the bank of the Hudson River, the Harbinger Institute started off as a regular hospital, but budget cuts forced it to close in the 1920s. Fifteen years later, it was reopened as a mental institution. During World War II it was also a place where German prisoners of war were kept. It was at this time that the legend of Doc Smithers got its start.

Smithers was the chief doctor at Harbinger. He was brilliant but extremely sadistic. He was constantly pushing the boundaries. And the German POWs were the best place to start.

Then, in the 1950s, one of the young nurses told her uncle, a NYPD detective, about the goings-on at the Harbinger. The city closed the place down. The patients were shipped to other hospitals. Smithers lost his license to practice and was charged with inhumane crimes. He was set to go on trial the next year.

Five days later, on New Year's Eve, 1959, the Harbinger Institute exploded in a fireball of flames. Firefighters working the blaze swore they could hear screaming people inside- an impossibility considering the place had been shut down and all patients transferred. Trying to rescue the phantom people, five of New York's finest lost their lives.

The NYPD had a strong suspicion that Smithers started the fire, but he mysteriously disappeared. Most assumed he had started the blaze and perished in it. This of course, was a completely unsubstantiated rumor. But it was the story most believed.

It didn't take long for the hollowed-out shell that was the Harbinger Institute became a popular teen hangout. Rumors circled for the next forty years about mysterious happenings inside the building.

Then, two weeks ago, one of the students in Justin Kelso's gym class was overheard telling his friends that he'd come across the ghost of Doc Smithers. Apparently the good doctor was still at the Institute.

That was when the contest took form. A hundred dollars from a bunch of skeptical seniors for someone to bring back proof that Smithers was "alive" and well.

"Oooh..." Justin moaned. His sister slapped his arm. "Ow!"

"Quit that," Anna hissed. "Did you hear that?"

Justin and Jessica both stopped. They listened for a few seconds. "Nope," Justin said. He started forward into the building. "Come on, let's go."

"Wait!" This time Jessica grabbed his arm. Justin shrugged it off angrily. "You can't hear that?" she asked him.

"If you're gonna be such a wuss," Justin began, "why did you come along anyway?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on _you_," Jessica shot back. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"No way," Justin said. "There's a hundred bucks waiting for me in there."

Jessica turned to his sister for help. "Anna?"

"Let him go," Anna said flatly. "He gets in trouble, it's his ass, not ours."

He grinned. "When I get out of there, I'm a hundred bucks richer."

"And a few brain cells poorer," Jessica said.

He waved as he disappeared into the building.

"He's such a dork," Jessica said. "How can you stand being his sister?"

Anna raised an eyebrow. "You're the one dating him, sweetheart."

Then they heard screams. The two girls looked at each other. "I'm going to get help," Jessica said.

"We can't just leave him in there!" Anna cried. She took off at a run in the direction Justin had gone.

"Anna- wait!" Jessica yelled as Anna disappeared around a corner.

Anna's screams filled the air, echoing her brother's.

Jessica took off for the door. She didn't look back. And she didn't stop running.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Teenagers," Don Flack said, leaning back into the headrest of the squad car and rubbing his temples. "All those horror flicks, and they never learn."

The call had come over the radio about thirty seconds ago. Flack and Officer Jack Faraday, being closest to the scene, volunteered to go check it out. Normally, it was a job for some rookie officer to go chase teens out of the Institute, but on slower nights, Flack had no problem doing it. _Rather do that than chase down some psycho_, he thought. _Wild teens beat psycho killer any day of the week and twice on Sunday_.

Flack had heard all the stories. When his father had joined the force, he's come home with all the crazy stories about the happenings at Harbinger. Flack had chased teens out of there during his first couple years, too. Flack had also heard the stories. _Old Man Smithers is still killin' people in there_. _I saw lights on in there while we were partying, but the place has got no electricity! I heard people yelling, but I was the only one in there!_

A month ago, Flack would have rolled his eyes at the ghost stories. Now he was a believer. One can't be on a case where the perps are all vampires hell-bent on destroying the world and _not_ become a believer. Oh, sure, Flack had been a surefire skeptic at first, but when one gets stepped on by a giant blood-sucking demon and gets a broken arm to show for it, then have to lie on the incident report that it was shattered by a piece of falling ceiling, one has no choice but to believe what one has written.

He had to shake his head. It was the weirdest report he'd ever had to fill out.

Flack was shaken from his reverie by a glimpse of someone in their headlights. "Jack! Stop!" he barked.

Jack Faraday slammed on the brakes. Flack was out of the car before it had completely stopped. The person in their path was a girl. She barely looked eighteen. She was wearing jeans and a tanktop. She was holding a cell phone, and her cheeks were bright red. When she saw Flack, she started screaming and tried to run the other way.

Flack caught her and pulled her close. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay. I'm NYPD. Someone called 911, I'm guessing that was you. It's okay. You're safe now." He pulled the shivering, crying girl into his arms. He shuffled out of his jacket and tucked it around her shoulders. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"J-Jessica A-Anders," she stammered. "It killed them. Oh, God, I think it killed them!"

Flack snapped his fingers at Jack. "Call it in," he said. "Tell 'em to bring a bus." He thought about what the girl had just said. "And maybe Dr. Peyton Driscoll from the lab."

Jack took the radio from off his shoulder and called in their location. Flack stepped away from the girl, intent on going to the building to check it out.

She grabbed his arm. Her fingernails dug into his shirt. "Don't leave me!" she begged him.

Flack pointed to Jack. "Jack's a good guy. I'm not leavin' you alone. He'll watch out for you until the ambulance gets here. I'm going to go check on your friends." He sat her down in the front seat of the squad car. "You'll be okay."

He set out for the Institute. The building loomed ahead of him. He sorta wished he had backup right now, and thought about waiting and giving Danny Messer a call.

Except it was Danny's night off, so he was probably with Lindsay. And whatever fate awaited Flack in the building was nothing compared to the hell he'd get if he interrupted Danny and Lindsay.

Flack stepped into the dark building. His flashlight played off the crumbling cement walls. His footfalls echoed through the building. He started down the main hallway, his gun trained on the area ahead. The place was downright creepy. It seriously unnerved him. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He felt like running directly back out the door, but knew he had a job to do. _Wouldn't look good for me to run out screaming, either_, he thought.

Then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of footsteps behind him. Flack whipped around, his gun trained ahead. "NYPD! Freeze!"

His gun was knocked from his hand by a kick. Flack heard it clatter to the ground somewhere nearby. Flack's flashlight came up directly into his attacker's eyes. He was all set to tackle whatever it was that was in front of him around the knees when the whatever it was started laughing.

_That's new_. Flack got his first look at his attacker.

"You son of a- What in the _hell_ are you doing here?" he demanded when he saw who it was. He had to resist the urge to take him down anyway.

Dean Winchester grinned. "Come on, admit it," he said. "You missed me."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Reviews make for happy writers. Like it, love it, hate it, doesn't matter, please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Just realized that last chapter was more notes than story, so to make up for it, here's chapter two.**

**------------------------------------------CSI:NY-----------------------------------------**

**Chapter Two**

"I could have killed you!" Flack growled.

Dean Winchester didn't seem to believe him. "Yeah, good luck with that, considering I totally took you by surprise. So that left your flashlight, your bare fists, and your good looks," he pointed out. He grinned broadly. "None of which scare me at all."

"Keep it up, and your face won't be as pretty, either," Flack hissed.

"Dean, quit flirtin' with the detective," Dean's younger brother Sam cut in. He nodded to Flack. "Nice to see you again, Detective."

"Wish I could say the same- what in the _hell_ are you doing back in my town?" Flack demanded. "I thought I told you that unless the world was ending, I didn't want to see you back. And now you're at a crime scene with a bunch of kids, one of which had the fear of God put into her by _something_ in here." Flack raised his eyebrow and used his flashlight to point at the two brothers. "And you're all I can see. Care to explain?"

Sam looked at Flack, concern in his brown eyes. "That girl, the one we saw running out of here. She's okay?"

"She's scared to death, but other than that, she appears to be in one piece," Flack said.

"Yeah, well," Dean began, nodding down the hall ahead of them, "your other two kids didn't fare as well. They're both dead back there in Exam 7."

"Uh huh. Didn't happen to see who did it?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Didn't see 'em," he replied, "'cause there wasn't anything to _see_," he said. "Whatever killed them is long gone by now."

"Uh huh." Flack said, casually bending down to get his gun. Then, a second later, it was up and in Dean Winchester's face. "Start talking."

"Wait- you still think we had something to do with it?"

Flack shot him a 'duh' look. "You give me a logical reason for you to be here, I might consider letting you off." _As if anything's logical with these two._

"We're in town on a completely unrelated matter," Sam said with a look at Dean. It instantly made Flack suspicious. They'd coordinated a story. "We heard screams."

"By the time we got in there, they were already dead," Dean said flatly.

"You're not gonna tell me why you were town?" Flack said. When the two brothers didn't say anything, Flack shook his head. He did notice that Sam turned a distinct shade of red, and Dean attempted to hide a smile. "All right, then. Maybe your tongues will loosen up back down at the precinct. Because unless you give me something, you're in a crime scene with two dead bodies. You're my prime suspects. So right now, you're under arrest."

"Are you freakin' kidding me?" Dean said. "What kind of power trip are you on, man? Last time we were in town, we helped save the damn city. Hell, the damn _world_!"

Flack shrugged. "That was then; this is now. Let's go."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Brrringggg!_

"Ignore it."

_Brrringgg!_

"Danny, what if it's work?"

"Screw Mac. We're kinda busy at the moment."

"Danny!" Lindsay Monroe burst out laughing as she leaned across him to pick up her phone from his night stand. Danny Messer stared up at the ceiling and folded his arms behind his head. Lindsay slid back across him and sat up on the other side of his bed. "It is Mac," Lindsay said. She clicked SEND. "Hello?"

_Thanks a lot, Mac_, Danny thought.

"_Hi Lindsay. Sorry to bother you, but we're short-handed here and we just got a call out. Are you busy?"_

"No. Where?" Lindsay memorized the address Mac gave her. "Okay, be there in a few minutes." She hung up and slid back down under the sheets. "That was Mac. They're short staffed and need someone in the field."

Danny shook his head. "And they had to pick you."

Lindsay smiled as she snuggled closer to Danny. She traced a line on his bare chest with one finger. "Technically, I think I'm still the new girl," she replied. "I still get all the grunt work."

"You hafta go, huh?" Danny asked. He stuck out his bottom lip and made puppy dog eyes at her.

Lindsay socked him with her pillow. "Yes, I do." She climbed out of bed and shimmied into her jeans, a spectacle Danny didn't mind watching. She grabbed one of his button-down shirts.

"You don't think that'll be painfully obvious or anything, do ya, Montana?" Danny teased her.

"Give me a break, the whole lab knows about us anyway," Lindsay replied. She crawled onto the bed and he propped himself on one elbow so she could kiss him goodbye. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"I'll be waiting," Danny replied. She grabbed her keys and took off. He heard his front door slam, and he flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Then he reached under the pillow and pulled out a small velvet box. He turned it over with his fingers. "Better luck next time, Messer," he said, disappointed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lindsay met Mac in an alley downtown. Mac Taylor was an astute sort of guy. When he saw her coming, kit in one hand, wearing a shirt that looked very masculine and suspiciously like something Danny Messer would wear, he instantly realized that Lindsay had been busy when he called. "Thanks for coming. Sorry for dragging you away like this."

Lindsay nodded. "It's okay. But if I ask for comp time later on..."

"No arguments," Mac agreed. "Here's what we have. So far she's a Jane Doe. We'll have to get her to Sid to know for sure, but right now COD appears to be-"

"Massive blood loss," Lindsay said. She was staring at the body. The girl's eyes were wide open, staring blankly into space. Without an autopsy, it was hard to tell right now what COD was, but Lindsay was looking at two puncture wounds in the girl's neck.

"That's why I called you," Mac said.

"Mac...you don't think..." Lindsay looked up at her boss, hoping he'd tell her otherwise. But all Mac Taylor could do was nod. "It looks that way," he replied grimly.

"I'll process the body," Lindsay said. "Can we get Peyton to come pick her up?"

"Peyton's out on another call," Mac replied. "Some kids down at the Harbinger Institute."

Lindsay shook her head. "They'll never learn," she said. "Bet Flack's in a good mood right now."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They weren't budging from their story.

Flack was in a bad mood.

It was three in the morning, and he was supposed to be at home in bed. Instead, he was staring across the table at the two most annoying suspects he'd ever come across in his entire life. "Come on already, guys," he said. "It's three in the morning, and I doubt you all want to be here any more than I do."

"We told you," Dean Winchester said, propping his feet up on the table. Flack knocked them back off. "We're in town for something completely unrelated. We heard screams. We came in, the two kids were dead. The other girl ran right by us on her way out the building. Have your guys check the scene. My fingerprints'll be on those kids because I was checking for a pulse. My footprints will be in that room because there's dust and crap on the floor because the place is freakin' fallin' apart." He nodded to Sam. "Sammy will back me up."

"It's 'Sam,'" Sam corrected for the umpteenth time. He turned to Flack. "Look, Detective, we tried to help those kids. We didn't get there in time." His voice sounded tired, but not because of the time. More like tired as in having seen too much and being sick of it. "Look, last time we were in town we proved we were legit."

"And as I recall, I told you I didn't want you in New York again," Flack replied, sitting down in the chair across from them. "Not unless the world was ending again. So did I miss something? Did a Horseman of the Apocalypse ride down Fifth Avenue without me knowing it? You guys give me something straight up to work with, and you can go. And I can go home and get some sleep."

Sam looked at his brother. "Dean, it's three in the morning. I'm dead. And you look like hell." He shrugged. "I'm giving it to him straight."

Dean snorted. "Knock yourself out. There's no way in hell he's gonna believe you."

"Guys, last time you were in town I got stepped on by the badass of all demons. Try me."

"Okay, Detective," Sam Winchester leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. "How do you feel about sea monsters?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two hours later, there was a knock on Stella Bonasera's door. She was up, getting ready for work. The knocks surprised her because it was so early. Still in her bathrobe, she checked the peephole, then opened her door.

A very tired Don Flack stood before her. "Flack? What are you doing here?"

"I just got off one hell of a call," he said. "Your place was closer than mine. You mind if I use it? I just need a couple hours of sleep, that's all."

Stella smiled. She stepped aside so he could come in. A few seconds later, Flack was crashed on her couch. She pulled an afghan over him and kissed him on the forehead, then continued getting ready for work.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny Messer didn't hear his door open. He was completely out of it when Lindsay crawled into bed beside him. Lucky for them, they both had the later shift. Lindsay watched him sleep, his chest gently rising and falling. She slid an arm through his and curled up next to him. He smelled like sweat and his cologne, plus whatever fabric softener he used.

She was asleep in seconds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY;" they're the property of CBS and Anthony E. Zuiker. I also don't own the guys from "Supernatural" they belong to the WB and Eric Kripke.**

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**C****hapter Three**

Dr. Sid Hammerbeck had seen a lot of things in his time as a medical examiner. But the bodies that had been brought in the night before were throwing him for a loop. Clicking his glasses together, Sid began a preliminary check. He noted height, weight, sex, did a check for time of death. Then he bent close over the body, going over every inch of it, searching for an outlying cause of death.

It didn't take long. He dialed Mac Taylor's office upstairs. Once he got off the phone with Mac, he turned to the bodies Peyton Driscoll had brought in. _Three young people in one night_, Sid thought. He did not envy the detectives that had to call the parents that morning.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stella passed Mac on his way down to Autopsy. "Morning, Mac," she greeted him. Then she studied him. "You look like hell."

He managed a smile. It was that smile that said _You're getting away with that because we're good friends_. "Nice to see you, too. Early call out," he said. "I'm on my way to Autopsy now."

"Mind if I tag along?" Stella asked. She changed directions and followed him into the elevator. He held the doors for her, then hit the button for the ground floor. "What kind of call?"

"It's complicated, I'd rather explain it downstairs," Mac replied.

She nodded. "How's Peyton?"

"She's fine," Mac said. "She was the ME on the call last night, so she's at home getting some rest. She's supposed to meet me for lunch later." He raised his eyebrows at her. "How's Flack?"

Stella pondered the question for a minute. "Flack's good. We're supposed to be going out tonight if I can take an hour of comp time."

Mac thought about it. "Danny and Lindsay are both in at five," he said. "I'll still be here...and Adam... I don't see why not."

"Thanks, Mac," Stella said seriously. "I know Flack could use the break. His arm's still a little sore from...you know...anyway, he just needs some time to relax."

Mac nodded. He understood perfectly. The tone sounded and the elevator door slid open. Mac held the door to Autopsy open for Stella. They were met by Sheldon Hawkes, Sid Hammerbeck, and a crowd of people. "Lively place," Stella whispered to Mac.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You look like hell, Detective."

Flack eyed Dean Winchester warily. "Didn't I make a promise last time you were here that I'd shoot you?"

"Yeah, try that whole gun thing," Dean said. "Worked well last night."

"Dean, shut up," Sam Winchester told his brother tiredly. If his brother didn't shut up soon, they'd probably both be looking at twenty-five to life!

"Still sticking to your story?" Flack asked them.

"That's my story, and I'm sticking to it," Dean said, swiping a line from a country song. He had to shake his head in disbelief. "Dude, the more you sit here questioning us innocent kids, the more killing that's gonna happen at that damn building. Give it up already; you've got nothing to hold us on."

Flack didn't say anything. He got up and left the room, letting the door slam behind him.

Dean turned to Sam. "I think he hates me."

"I'd say it's a safe bet."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flack knew it was Danny's turn for the late shift. But it was noon; he hoped his best friend would be up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It smelled like bacon. And eggs. And was that maple syrup?

Lindsay opened one eye. She was alone in Danny's bed. But she could distinctly smell something from the kitchen. And it smelled amazing. She sat up. "Danny?" she called out.

"Just a sec!" Danny yelled back from the kitchen. He added a plate with eggs and bacon to the tray. Then he added the glass of milk. It would've been juice, but he was out. Besides, he reasoned, Lindsay would rather have milk. Milk was a Midwestern thing. Then he pulled the velvet box from his pocket again. He was just about to add it to the tray when his phone rang.

_No. No way._ He willed it to stop ringing.

"Danny? You want me to grab that?"

"No!" he yelled back. "No, I got it!" He reached for his phone. "Yeah, Messer."

_"Hey_," Flack's tired voice sounded tinny over the phone.

"What's goin' on?" Danny asked him. "Everythin' okay?"

"_Yeah, yeah, it's all good. Just had one o' them nights, ya know?"_

He knew. Boy, did he know. "So what can I do for ya? I'm a little busy."

"_I'm having some trouble interrogatin' a couple of suspects. You remember the Winchester boys?_"

Danny's brow furrowed. "What, the vampire hunters? What the hell are they doin' back in New York?" His first thoughts turned to Lindsay. Then he made a mental note to buy some ibuprofen. He had a feeling he might need it over the next couple days.

"_I dunno, but I got them in interrogation 2. I could use your help breakin' em. I tried callin' Mac, but he's busy."_

Danny sighed. "Gimme about an hour," he said. "I still gotta shower and all that."

_"Thanks, man_," Flack said, and hung up.

Danny tossed his phone on the couch, picked up the tray and headed into his room. "Good morning, beauti-" He stopped.

He heard his shower turn on.

_Flack's dead meat._

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

An hour later, Lindsay and Danny were at work. Danny went immediately to find Flack. Lindsay met Mac in his office. "Morning," he greeted her. "Sorry about last night."

Lindsay shrugged. "Hey, when the boss calls... Did Sid figure COD on our body?"

"Exsanguination," Mac replied.

"Doesn't surprise me," Lindsay said. "Do you think it's someone from the club bust?"

Mac nodded. "I think so."

Lindsay thought about it for a minute. "Should I tell Danny?" she asked Mac.

"I think you should. He worked the case as the primary." He raised his eyebrows. "Besides...he should be involved...for other reasons."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny had a vested interest in this. You see, Danny had discovered a new...talent, in the past year. And it had become one of the lab's greatest assets. Danny had visions. More like headsplitting nightmares, actually, but visions. He could see things before they happened. It had just sort of come upon him, right around the time his relationship with Lindsay started to bloom. Usually, the information was connected with a current case. But it also meant that Lindsay was in trouble. Sometimes it was connected to Flack. But most of the time, it was Lindsay. People close to him.

Danny hadn't quite figured out why he was getting them. Maybe some higher power was giving him a hint. He thought it was sort of like that connection that twins or siblings have. You know, when one twin could sense when the other one was sick or in trouble. It was good. It helped him keep tabs on Lindsay. It helped him keep her safe.

They used to be a burden. But after their last case, involving a club full of vampires intent on destroying New York City, Danny was ready to accept them. Fortunately, he hadn't had any lately.

He was thinking about it now as he stood outside of one of the interrogation rooms with Don Flack.

"Did you hear any of what I just said?" Flack asked him. He'd noticed his friend had zoned out.

Danny blinked. "Sorry. No. What?"

Flack shook his head. "Didn't get much sleep last night, huh?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Danny smacked him in the shoulder. "Funny. Real funny. No, I was just...thinking."

"Ooh, careful with that stuff," Flack said. He nodded into the interrogation room. "Anyway, what I said was these two must think I'm the dumbest schmuck on the planet."

"Smart guys," Danny retorted, getting him back for his earlier line. Flack acknowledged it with a nod. "Why do you say that?"

"Do you know what they told me this morning?" Flack asked. "Those two-" here he jerked a thumb backwards through the viewing window- "tell me that there's a sea monster in the Hudson River."

"A _sea monster_?" Danny snorted. "I knew there was some nasty stuff in there, but Nessie?"

"Nessie's in Scotland," Mac Taylor's voice pointed out behind them. The two men turned around as the superior officer and Lindsay Monroe came in. Mac glanced through the window. Sam and Dean Winchester hadn't changed any from a month away. "Those are the two kids that were on the club case," he said.

"Found them at the Harbinger Institute last night," Flack explained. "Right now they're my prime suspects." He managed a grin. "See, they think that because they saved the world last time they were in New York, they get a get-out-of-jail free card."

Mac shrugged apologetically. "Well, they're going to."

"What?" Danny asked.

_"What_?" Flack sounded incredulous. "Mac, are you freakin' kidding me?"

"I'm dead serious," Mac replied flatly, the irony not lost on his friends.

Lindsay tugged on Danny's shoulder. "Can I talk to you for a second?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Don't want to listen to this, anyway." He followed her out of the room.

Flack threw his hands in the air. "Mac, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for what they did last time they were in town, but I _can't_ let them off this time!"

"Flack," Mac said, in a tone that made it clear that there wasn't room for argument, "you don't have a choice. With the cases we're working right now- yours plus the alley from last night- we _need_ their expertise."

"Why? What did you run into last night they can possibly help with?" Flack demanded.

Mac held up the autopsy report and handed it to Flack. Flack flipped it open and scanned through it. His brow furrowed and he looked up at Mac. "Mac- this looks a lot like what happened at Darkness Falls."

"Now you see why we need their help," Mac said. "Like it or not, Flack, we've got to ask the Winchesters for their help one more time."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lindsay stepped out into the parking garage, pulling Danny with her. "Come on, Montana," Danny said. "What's up?"

Lindsay scuffed the pavement with her shoe. She was making a point to look everywhere but at Danny. Finally, Danny had had enough. He tipped her chin so she had no choice but to look at him. "Montana," he said firmly. "What. Is. Going. On?"

"Okay!" Lindsay sighed. "Danny, the case I got called to work last night... Mac thought you should be involved."

He shrugged. "Okay. That's it?"

"No, Danny, that's _not_ it. Danny, the girl- the victim- she..." Lindsay looked into his blue eyes and sighed. "She had two puncture wounds in her neck. Her body was almost completely drained of blood."

Danny had to fight to remain standing. The news hit him like a Mack truck. He knew now why Lindsay had waited to tell him. _Great. Things just got crazy again...and this definitely isn't the right time._ "Is she the only one?"

"So far," Lindsay said. "But Danny, you and Mac led that raid. Her dad died in the fight..."

The _her_ that Lindsay was referring to was a teenaged, spiky-haired vampire that Danny only knew as Spike. Her father had been the owner of the club Darkness Falls, the front for a group of vampires. In the ensuing battle to keep the demon Caleph from rising, Spike's father was killed. Danny had let the teen go, not thinking her to be a threat.

Now he was regretting it. "We'll have to find her before she can find us," he said. He smiled. "No problem."

He only wished he was that confident.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Like it, love it or hate it, please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"How long can they hold us here?" Dean wondered. He was going stir crazy. He'd already memorized the entire room. And he was going to make sure that Flack knew about the cockroach that was hiding in the corner. Dean had seen it skitter across the floor a couple hours ago. It hadn't moved since. Dean hated bugs.

"48 hours," Sam replied. "That is, until they find our prints all over those kids and our footprints at the crime scene." He looked at his brother. "Then they can book us for a double _homicide_." His voice rose on the last word. "And then we can get twenty-five to _life_!"

Dean shook his head. "I can't believe this," he said. "I'm gonna be out a thousand dollars."

"Are you seriously thinking about that stupid _contest_?" Sam looked at his brother incredulously. "Dean, we could get the death penalty, and you're worried about a _grand_?"

Dean waved his hand flippantly. "Sammy, we didn't kill those kids. They aren't gonna book us for it. And _yeah_," he added, like it was painfully obvious, "it's a thousand dollars!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't believe you!" He looked at his brother. "This is the last time we search the Internet for jobs."

A few weeks ago, after a job in Ohio, Dean had been browsing the Internet when he came across a news article about a sea monster in the Hudson River. As it turned out, the paper was only covering a contest. A thousand dollars to anyone who could give hard and fast proof that there was _something_ living in the Hudson. Dean scanned the entire country, but it was supernaturally quiet. Sam was against the trip from the start, but Dean was driving. They had spent the past couple days scoping out the river. Sam was constantly making remarks like, "They probably saw a mutated fish." Dean was less than amused.

The night they decided to do night reconnaissance they had been along the river near the Harbinger Institute when they heard screaming. They went to investigate...and now they were here.

Before Dean could respond with a snarky remark, the door to the interrogation room opened and Don Flack stood in the doorway, Mac Taylor at his side. "Welcome back," Dean greeted him. "We were just commenting on your accommodations here." He leaned forward. "By the way," he said conspiratorially, "did you know there's a roach problem in here?"

"Funny," Flack shot back, "the only cockroach I see right now is right in front of me."

"Now that's not fair, Detective," Dean replied. He jerked a thumb at Sam. "It's not his fault he's ugly."

"Hey!"

"Give it a rest," Mac Taylor said sharply. He tossed a file down in front of the boys. "When you guys were here last," he explained. "The vampire case."

"Yeah, I remember it," Dean said. Sam had taken the file and was flipping through it.

"Dean," he said. "Look at this."

Dean scanned the file. It was the autopsy results from the girl Mac and Lindsay had found the night previous. "What's this gotta do with us?" he asked.

Sam nodded to the file. "Dean, _look_." He tapped the girl's head shot.

Dean finally saw it. "Looks like you missed a couple," he told Mac and Flack.

"_We_ missed a couple?" Flack said. It was _so_ tempting to deck the guy right now.

Mac shot him a Look. "Don't start," he said. "Look, Dean, we'll make you a deal."

"Not sure I like where this is going."

"You help us out with a couple cases, we'll let you off."

Dean exchanged a look with his brother. "Excuse me?" he said, with a raised eyebrow.

Mac shrugged. "It's either that or in-" he checked his watch- "twenty minutes when I get my lab results back, I charge you with a double homicide." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So what's it gonna be?"

"I'm not working for the cops. Especially not the golden boy over there," Dean said flatly.

"Uh, yeah, you are," Sam told him.

Dean shot him a _You_ _traitor_! look.

Sam ignored him as he said, "I _like_ not being in jail. You might do fine in prison as someone's 'personal assistant,' but I wouldn't." Then he threw the zinger. "Besides, maybe while we're working on their cases, they'll let us have some time to check out the Loch Hudson monster?"

"We could do that," Mac said. He looked at Flack. "Flack, you'll be working the Institute case with Stella, Hawkes and Dean."

"Wait, wait." Flack held up a hand. He pointed from himself to Dean. "You're making me work with him?"

"Yeah," Mac said, in a tone that made it non-negotiable.

"I gotta work with him?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Sam replied.

Flack and Dean looked at each other. They tried, but neither one could stare the other down. They were both thinking the same thing.

_Great._

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

The girl sitting in front of Stella Bonasera was still shaking from her ordeal from the night before. She was pretty- long black hair, dark brown eyes. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she had attempted to clean away some of the night before coming in to tell her story the next day. "Hi, Jessica," Stella said. "My name is Stella, and I just want to ask you a few questions about last night, if that's okay?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry I freaked out on that detective," she said. "But-"

Stella held up a hand. "Trust me, sweetheart, I'd have done it, too. Why did you go to the Institute last night?" she asked her.

Jessica bit her lip. "Justin wanted the money. See, there's this contest going around school. A hundred bucks to anyone who can bring back proof that the Harbinger Institute is haunted. Justin wanted to go."

"Did you?"

She shrugged. "Well, yeah. At first. I thought it would be kinda cool to see a ghost." She looked down at the table. "Not anymore."

"Tell me what happened," Stella said gently. "Take your time."

"We...we went there. Justin was all excited. His sister--Anna--she just thought he was weird. And I was there because Justin's my boyfriend..." she managed a sad smile. "It's so hard to say 'was', you know?" She sniffed a little before continuing. "Anyway, we started hearing noises. Justin made fun, you know? Faking ghost moans or whatever. He went down the hall to go check it out. I didn't want to go. I mean, what if it was some psycho killer or something?"

Stella nodded understandingly. "Go on."

Jessica took a deep breath. This was the hard part. "A few seconds later Anna and I heard him scream. Anna took off after him, but I was too scared." She looked at Stella, and tears were forming in her eyes. "I ran the _other_ way. I left them there!"

"No, no." Stella came around the table and put an arm around her. "Sweetheart, what you did is what anybody else would have done in the same instance. Don't blame yourself. You went to get help, which is what Justin and Anna needed."

"But they _died!_" Jessica burst out. "I left them there, and something killed them!"

"And it would have gotten you too, if you had gone with them," Stella reminded her. "Did you see anything while you were in there? Anything at all?"

Jessica shook her head. "Nothing. Just the noises."

"What sort of noises?"

Jessica thought about it. She'd blocked most of the night out. "Um...it was like...whispers, I guess." She looked at Stella. "You know when you're in one room, and you can hear the conversation in the next room? You can't really tell what they're saying, but you know they're talking?"

Stella nodded. "I get it." She gave the girl a hug. "Thank you for coming in.""When...when will Justin and Anna's funeral be?" Jessica asked.

"Their parents are coming in later today to make the arrangements." Stella told her.

"They hate me, you know," Jessica said. "They hate my guts. Especially their mom. She thinks I left their kids to die."

"Honey, they don't hate you. They're just in shock. It will blow over." Stella opened the door to her office. "Do you have someone coming to get you?"

"No," Jessica said. "I took a cab. I'm in foster care, see, so I don't even have a family that can back me up." She looked down at the floor. "Justin and Anna were the closest thing I had."

Stella nodded sympathetically. "Should I call you a cab?"

"That'd be great." For once in their interview, Jessica smiled a real smile. "Thank you."

"No problem."

Just then, a man and a woman came onto the 35th floor. They caught sight of Jessica. "What is _she_ doing here?" Erica Kelso demanded.

Jessica didn't say anything as Stella stepped out of her office. "Can I help you?" she asked them, her tone becoming even, firm, more professional. She made it clear who was in charge in this conversation.

"We're here for our children," Erica Kelso said. She glared at Jessica.

Stella put her hands on Jessica's shoulders. "You'll want Autopsy, it's downstairs." She pointed. "Thataway."

"We wouldn't have to be here if it wasn't for _her_," Erica Kelso accused.

"Mrs. Kelso, it wasn't my fault!" Jessica burst out. "I went to get help!"

"And you left my children to some madman!" Erica took a menacing step toward Jessica. Donovan Kelso stepped in and grabbed his wife as Stella pulled Jessica backwards.

"Hey!" she barked at Erica Kelso. "This was _not_ her fault. It was an accident, a horrible accident that nobody could have seen coming! It's nobody's fault!"

By this time, Sheldon Hawkes had poked his head out of the DNA lab to watch the whole exchange. Hawkes stepped out into the hallway. "Is there a problem?" he asked carefully, his dark eyes concerned, looking at the Kelsos.

"No," Donovan Kelso said. "No, there's no problem." He tugged on his wife's arm. "Let's go downstairs, honey."

"You always were a bad influence on my son," Erica hissed, her parting shot to Jessica as they headed for the elevator.

Jessica buried her head in Stella's shoulder. Hawkes stepped up to them. "Everything okay?" he asked Stella.

Stella nodded, tears forming in her own eyes. "Do me a favor? Call her a cab?"

"Sure. No problem." Hawkes squeezed the girl's shoulder and ducked into Stella's office.

Stella slipped one of her business cards out of her pocket. She tucked it into Jessica's hand. "Jessica, this is my card. If you ever need anything. _Anything_," she stressed. "You call me. Even if it's just to tell me how school goes or what you had for breakfast."

The sixteen-year-old nodded. "Okay."

Hawkes stepped into the hall. "Cab's on its way."

Stella smiled at him, silent thanks. "Come on, Jessica. Let's go wait for your ride."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Thanks to Michaela Martin, Spontanaeity, and angeljunkie for reviewing! Reviews are appreciated...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Sid Hammerbeck and Peyton Driscoll had finally managed to chase the crowd out of the autopsy area. "Honestly. It's just wrong," Peyton told him. She had been annoyed with the crowd all day. She'd heard rumors that even the media were trying to get in. It made it damn near impossible to get her job done.

"I completely agree," Sid replied. He looked up at the sound of the door cracking open. "Evening, Mac."

Mac nodded to Sid, smiled at Peyton. "Managed to get the audience to leave, huh?"

"I threatened them with the bone saw," Sid replied with a tired smile. "I'm going to run and file this report, if that's okay," he told Peyton. He didn't think it would be.

It wasn't. "See you in a bit," Peyton said politely. Sid nodded and left.

Peyton sagged against the metal autopsy table. "Finally," she said.

"Stressful day?" Mac asked her. He stepped up next to her and began massaging her shoulders.

"You have no idea." Peyton relaxed and closed her eyes, grateful for the quiet time. They were silent for a few minutes. Then he said gently, "You missed our lunch date today."

Peyton's head snapped up. "Oh! Mac, I'm so sorry! Things got so busy, and I worked straight from the time I got here until-"

"It's okay," Mac replied. "I understand." He tipped her head down again so it was resting on his shoulder. "What do you say to dinner?"

"That sounds wonderful," Peyton said. "I'm off in a couple of hours."

"I'll be waiting," Mac said. He kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Hours later_

Autopsy was completely silent. The staff was mostly gone, and the overnight guy, Marty Pino, had snuck out for just a second to check on the NFL draft stats.

The door creaked open, and Danny Messer stuck his head in. The lights were blazing, but he didn't see anyone. He'd already brought the file from upstairs that he needed. He went over to the refrigerated storage areas where the bodies were kept. Scanning the file, he then looked around before popping one of the storage slots open. He pulled out the tray until the head was exposed. He took another look around, realizing that if anyone caught him doing what he was about to do, he would be the talk of the lab.

And _not_ in a good way. Danny tugged the sheet back, revealing the girls' head. She couldn't have been more than twenty.

He wasn't sure if what he was doing would even work. Usually, his "visions" came to him in the form of migraine-inducing nightmares. Danny wasn't sure if he could actually _make_ one happen.

But he was going to try. As much as he didn't want to, it was really the only way to get a lead on this case. Danny reached out his hand. He laid his fingertips carefully on top of the girl's forehead. He closed his eyes as he rested the palm of his hand on her skin.

Then he waited.

Images hit him like a shockwave. The pain in his head nearly drove him to his knees.

_He was in an alley. He could tell this was from the victim's point of view. He smelled alcohol on his breath. He (_she? they? he wondered) _were heading for a car, a little blue CRV. He stumbled and heard laughter._

_He turned. There was nobody in the alley. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He was fumbling for his keys._

_Something grabbed him and spun him around. He was looking directly into the face of Spike. Her piercings had changed a little and her spiky black hair was now sporting a thick blue streak down one side, but it was the same girl he'd let go at the club._

_Spike held onto his arms tightly. He screamed as she tilted his head back. "You're only the first," Spike whispered as she sank his teeth into his neck-_

"Danny?"

Danny hit the floor, breathing hard as he was snapped out of the vision.

Dr. Marty Pino ran over to him. "Danny? Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah... yeah." Danny nodded. "I'll be fine in a minute."

Marty got up for a moment, returned with a glass of water. Danny downed it. "Thanks," he gasped.

"What were you doing?" Marty asked him, taking in the scene.

"I needed to check something on the report," Danny lied easily. "Must've gotten a little dizzy."

"You gettin' enough sleep?" the young doctor asked him.

_Not anymore, I won't be_. Danny looked at his watch. "I'm okay, now, Marty. Thanks."

"No problem," Marty replied.

"How's the Giants makin' out?" Danny asked him, attempting to change the subject.

Marty smiled. He knew what the detective was doing, but played along. "So far, so good. I'm really gonna have to learn to multitask in the fall," he said. "Thinkin' of trying Fantasy Football."

Danny grinned. "I'll put you in a league with me. We'll talk later. Thanks Doc." He headed upstairs.

He needed to find Lindsay.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Adam, you wanna hand me that sample?"

Adam Ross handed Lindsay the small tube. "This is the weirdest case. It's almost like that one a couple months ago."

Lindsay looked at him. He was going to handle most of their evidence anyway. "Uh, Adam? It's pretty much the same case," she replied. "Same circumstances, anyway."

He nodded, absorbing that. "Thanks," he said. "Not what I want to hear when I'm the only tech here on the late shift."

"Nothing'll happen to you here," Lindsay said, smiling at his nervousness.

He raised an eyebrow. "So you say." He glanced up. "Hi Danny."

"Hey, Adam." Danny looked over at Lindsay. "You about ready?"

She nodded, closing the file. "Yeah, I'm all set. Just gotta grab my coat out of your office."

Danny let her slide past him out the door. "See ya tomorrow, Adam."

Adam shook his head. "We'll see."

Danny looked at him. "What?"

"Never mind." Adam returned to his tests. Occasionally, Danny caught him looking up, as if one of the vampires was going to come around the corner at any second. It would have been funny any other day of the week.

Lindsay came out of Danny's office with her coat in hand. "Okay. All set."

"You wanna go out tonight?" Danny asked her. _Say yes. You have to say yes. You have no idea how much I want you to say yes._

She thought about it. "Yeah, sure. Okay. What time?"

"How long does it take you to change?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I can't work with him. He's a sarcastic jerk! He has no respect for anybody and he's constantly looking out for number one. He almost talked his brother into jail today!"

Stella hid a smile as she watched Don Flack pace on her floor. He'd been doing it for about twenty minutes now. "Flack, like it or not, you're stuck with the guy, so you're gonna have to learn how to deal with him. And last time he was here he helped save Lindsay and Danny's life." She shrugged. "He'll come through for you. He's just giving you a hard time because he knows you hate him."

Flack sank down onto the couch. "I'll try." He smiled at her. "So. How was your day?"

Stella looked out the window before answering. "It was all right."

"Just 'all right'? Come on Stel, talk to me." Flack pulled her down with him as he lay back on the couch. "What happened?"

"The girl that called 911- the one you met at Harbinger?"

Flack nodded. "Jessica--something."

"Right. She was in answering questions today. She wasn't really much help, she didn't see anything, unfortunately. She's feeling really guilty," Stella said. "Like she left her boyfriend and best friend to die while she ran away."

"Poor kid. It wasn't her fault."

"That's what I told her. She told me the parents blame her for what happened. The mother actually called Jessica a bad influence on her son, and that Jessica just left them to die." Stella shook her head.

"You're serious?" Flack couldn't believe it. "That's crazy. If she hadn't gone to get help...she would be down there with those kids right now."

"I know it. The parents are just having trouble coping right now. They lost both their kids in the same night. Anyway..." Stella snuggled up next to Flack. "It hit her really hard. She was in bad shape when she left. I told her to call me, gave her my card." She sighed. "I hope this gets ironed out."

"It wasn't her fault. She needs to know that. And the parents...I can't imagine what it's like to lose a kid, but I know that you want to blame anybody and everybody that you can." Flack buried a hand in Stella's hair. "Maybe we need to arrange some kind of counseling or something."

"Or something," Stella sighed. She closed her eyes. "I'm ready for sleep."

"You can't go to sleep _now_," Flack whispered. "I just got here."

"You could sleep, too," Stella replied. "Catch up from last night?"

He closed his eyes, feeling her breath on his neck. "I can do that," he said.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mac Taylor opened the car door for Peyton. They were parked outside Peyton's apartment building. Dinner had been short and simple, pizza, but it was just the break the two of them had needed. "I really needed this Mac," Peyton said. She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

He smiled. "It was no problem."

He didn't even know there was someone else around until something nailed him in between the shoulder blades. It was so hard it dropped him to the pavement.

"_Mac!_" Peyton screamed. Someone threw her back into the car. She landed hard against the front seat. Her vision swam.

Mac attempted to stand, but two hands grabbed him around the collar and pulled him to a standing position. He blinked, but recognized the girl in front of him.

"Hiya, Detective," Spike Gareth said. She nodded at Peyton. "This the girlfriend? She's cute, I approve." Then she got right into his face. It didn't surprise Mac that her breath smelled awful. "Just thought I'd let you know that I'm still around. And I know that you killed my dad." She whispered in Mac's ear. "And I'm not too happy about that."

She let Mac go. He slumped against the front wheel. "There'll be some more bodies for you tomorrow," Spike yelled as she took off down the street.

Mac painfully got to his feet. "Mac!" Peyton said, coming around the front of the vehicle.

"Peyton," Mac said as she helped him to his feet. She threw her arms around him, like she'd never let go. "Mac, who was that?" she asked. "Why is she so strong?"

"Are you okay?" Mac asked her instead, skirting the issue. He'd tell her later.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Two dogs," Danny told the vendor on the corner.

Lindsay had to bite back a smile. It wasn't exactly what she had in mind when Danny asked if she wanted to go out to eat, but she wasn't going to complain. Danny handed her the hot dog and she immediately doused it with ketchup and extra mustard. Danny added relish to his. "You up for a walk?" he asked her.

She nodded, unable to reply because of the mouthful of hot dog. She swallowed. "Sure. Let's go." The two headed into Central Park. Somewhere off in the distance, Lindsay could hear someone belting out a tune on a violin. Or fiddle. Depended on the genre of music. "So...are you okay?" she asked Danny. "You seemed a little... out of it at work."

He nodded. "Sure. I'm fine. Couldn't be better," he replied. He was lying through his teeth. There was so much she needed to know right now. He glanced around. They were standing in a quieter spot. "So. Lindsay," Danny began.

She looked at him, her eyes sparkling in the streetlight above them. She was smiling. He grinned, reached out and brushed a spot of ketchup off her lower lip. She blushed. "You're cute when you're embarrassed," Danny teased her. Then he cleared his throat.

"What?" Lindsay suddenly felt very self-conscious. Did she have hot dog in her teeth? Why was he acting so weird? "Danny, what?" she demanded.

That was when Danny dropped to one knee. "I've been tryin' to do this all day," he confessed to her quietly.

Lindsay's hands flew to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. _And he hasn't even _said_ anything yet!_

"Lindsay, you've been a part of my life for four years. You've been my partner. You've been my best friend. You've been with me through...through Tanglewood, Louie, Aiden...everything." He slipped the ring from the box and onto her finger. "I love you, Montana, and I want you to marry me. Will you marry me?"

"I-I...oh, _Danny_, I...yes!" Lindsay threw her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. He picked her up and swung her around in a slow circle. He was smiling, threatening to cry. She was crying, but laughing, too.

An older couple on their evening walk through the park saw the two kissing each other in the streetlight. They applauded.

Danny and Lindsay both looked up at the sudden noise. Lindsay turned a couple shades redder, and Danny was all smiles. But they didn't care if they were the center of attention. Right now, nothing else mattered.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Still to come, the lab finds out about the engagement, and Sam and Dean return! Turns out the Winchester boys had one heck of a night, too! But more on that next chapter... teehee, I'm SO mean.**

**Thanks so much to the folks who are reading, especially my reviewers: Liffey, Notesofwimsey, CarolinaH. Manning, TBD, Michaela Martin and TVjunkie.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY," they are property of Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS television. I also don't own the Winchester boys or the Impala from "Supernatural" because those belong to Eric Kripke and the WB.**

**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Six**

Sid Hammerbeck pulled up in the parking garage underneath the CSI lab. He climbed out of his car and locked it. He looked up to see Mac pull in. He was surprised to see Peyton Driscoll climb out of the passenger side. "Morning, you two," he greeted his friends. He noticed that Peyton looked like she'd been up the entire night. Mac was also sporting a couple of bruises on his face. "Are you two okay?"

"Just a mugging," Mac shrugged it off.

"Oh, my God," Sid said. "You get a good look at them?"

_More than I wanted_, Mac thought. "No. It happened really fast." He looked over at Peyton. He'd spent the night at her apartment because she was so shaken up. "Talk to you later?"

"Sure," Sid replied. The older man watched Mac and Peyton head for the elevator. "No problem."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stella caught up with Lindsay later that morning. "Hi, you," she greeted her. "You look great this morning."

Lindsay smiled. "Thanks." She nodded. "Thank you so much."

"What did you do last night?" Stella raised her eyebrows. "Or am I not allowed to know?"

"Oh..." Lindsay yawned, purposely bringing her hand to her face. Stella gasped as Lindsay said, "Not much happened last night."

"Lindsay!" Stella squealed. She grabbed Lindsay's hand and examined the ring. "Oh, my God, Lindsay!"

Lindsay was grinning from ear to ear. "He proposed!" Stella was fairly shouting. She gave her best friend a hug. "I can't believe it!"

"What's all the yelling?" Sheldon Hawkes came out of the lab, Adam Ross hot on his heels. "Everything okay?"

"Oh, I'm getting married," Lindsay was trying to act professional, but she couldn't quite pull it off. The giddy grin on her face was totally giving her away. She held her hand out so Hawkes could examine the ring.

"Hey, congratulations," he said, giving her a hug. "It's about time!"

"Who's the lucky guy?" Adam asked before completely thinking it through.

"Sid," Lindsay replied deadpan. "He's leaving his wife and kids for me."

"Hey, smart guy," Adam teased back, proving the young man could take it _and_ dish it out. He gave Lindsay a hug. "Congratulations."

Just then, Mac and Peyton came out of the elevator. Mac saw the majority of his staff standing in the hall. "What's going on?" he asked.

Lindsay responded by holding her hand out. Peyton's eyes went wide and she gave Lindsay a hug. "Congratulations!" she said. Lindsay had a feeling she was going to get a lot of those in the next couple of hours.

Mac smiled. "Took him long enough." He gave her a hug. "Congratulations, Lindsay," he said. "Whatever time off you need, you've got it."

She smiled. "Thanks, Mac. I haven't decided on New York on Montana yet, but I'll make sure you know well in advance."

"Where is Danny?" Hawkes asked.

"I think he's trying to find Flack. He wanted to ask him something."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny had found Flack downstairs at his desk. "Hey," he said by way of greeting, tapdancing his hands on Flack's computer monitor.

Flack looked up. "Morning," he said. He looked at his friend. "You look extremely chipper this morning," he said. "Who are you, and what have you done with Danny?"

Danny grinned. "I had a good night."

"Really. You and Lindsay finally-"

"Shut up," Danny replied. Flack grinned. "No, if you really must know, I proposed to Lindsay last night."

Flack coughed. "I'm sorry- what? Did she say yes?"

Danny nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Yeah. Yeah, she did."

"Hey," Flack said, standing up to clap Danny on the shoulder. He gave his friend a hug. "Congratulations." He looked at him and couldn't resist, "What took you so long?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Look, I gotta get upstairs pretty soon. But I wanted to ask you something."

"Danny- you already proposed to Lindsay," Flack grinned. It earned him a sore shoulder.

"I'm serious, man." Danny looked at Flack seriously. "Look, the wedding's gonna be in October. We haven't decided if it's gonna be in New York or Montana. But..." He took a deep breath. "Look, Louie's still in a coma. I don't know if he'll come out of it anytime soon...Anyway, I was sorta hopin' you'd stand in as my best man?"

Flack nodded, totally floored by the offer. "Absolutely. It'd be my pleasure," he said. He gave his friend another hug. "Congratulations. I'm serious. You're a lucky guy."

"Thanks." Danny replied. He sighed. "Now I better go upstairs so I can get bombarded up there, too."

His friend smiled. "Good luck." Danny headed upstairs. Flack returned to his paperwork.

"Morning, Detective!"

Flack groaned. He looked up to see Dean and Sam Winchester standing there. Dean was grinning his usual cat-ate-the-canary grin. Sam looked tired.

_I would be too, if I had to live with him_, Flack thought. "Hi," he said tonelessly. "What do you want?"

"Thought you might be interested in knowing what we found last night," Dean said. "Partner."

Flack had to refrain from rolling his eyes. "What?" he asked.

"It's quite the story," Dean said, plopping himself on the edge of Flack's desk, nearly sending Flack's strong black coffee to the floor. Flack glared at him. Dean pretended not to notice. "See, me and Sam went to the Institute last night..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_The night before, Harbinger Institute_

Dean played the beam of his flashlight down the empty corridor. "After this, we go check out Nessie," he told Sam.

Sam shook his head. "Could you try to focus for like, five seconds? Nessie's not going anywhere."

Dean shot him a 'duh' look. "Dude, it swims. There's ocean out there. And probably like a million other people out there looking for it."

"I doubt it," Sam shot back. "Seriously. We gotta figure out what in the hell is going on here."

"The kid was probably high, made it all up and went freakin' crazy," Dean shrugged it off.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Dude, then explain the witness?"

Dean opened his mouth for a comeback, but shut it when he heard voices. "You hear that?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

It sounded like someone whispering in a room down the hall. Dean held up the double-barrel gun filled with rock salt and moved ahead of his brother. Silently, the two brothers moved down the hallway toward the examination room at the end. The whispering seemed to get louder as the boys got closer. _Definitely something in there,_ Sam thought.

They reached the doorway. Dean held up a hand. Sam nodded. Then, Dean surged forward into the doorway. "Hey!" he yelled, aiming at whatever was in the room.

Three pairs of eyes stared back at him. "Dude, what the hell?" one of the teenage boys said. He was holding a video camera. His friends both looked like they spent their entire lives tethered to the TV by a Playstation cord. "What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demanded.

The three boys got to their feet. "We're ghost hunting," one said.

Dean snorted. He got a 'die' look from the camera toting boy. "You are interfering with a professional investigation."

Sam rolled his eyes. "A video camera, a tape recorder and...is that a battery tester?" He shook his head. "You _amateurs_ happen to be in a crime scene."

"Did you miss the part where it killed your friend Justin?" Dean barked at them. "Get the hell out of here."

"What are you gonna do about it?" one of the boys retorted. He was wearing a Kingdom Hearts T-shirt that looked suspiciously homemade.

"Dean, what's Detective Flack's number?"

"Hold up, I got it right-"

There was a blast of cold wind. It shut Dean in up in a hurry. Everyone in the room froze. "W-what t-the h-hell?" one of the video game nerds stammered.

"Kid, if you have a shred of sense, you'll get the _hell out of here now_!" Dean snapped.

The three "professional" investigators ran like the hounds of Hades were after them. Dean brought the rock salt gun up to his shoulder. "Sam, you see anything?"

His brother nodded. "Uh...yeah." He pointed.

Dean looked forward to see something materializing out of the darkness. It was a transparent figure, flickering like a television with poor reception. "Shoot it!" Sam yelled.

Dean took aim and fired. The salt blasted straight through the whatever-it-was and exploded into the wall behind it.

The brothers exchanged looks of disbelief. Echoing his brother's thoughts from a previous case, Sam said, "What the hell kind of spirit doesn't react to rock salt?"

"One that's not a spirit!" Dean yelled. He fired at it again, just to make sure. He only succeeded in making it mad. It roared and came at them. Dean ducked as it ran past his head.

Wait- _ran?_ Dean turned to his brother. "I'm goin' after it!"

"What- Dean, wait!" Sam tagged after his brother. Dean had a good lead on him, but Sam managed to keep him in sight. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, whatever they were chasing was gone. Dean skidded to a stop. "What the hell?" He looked around. It was gone. Disappeared.

Sam came to a stop behind his brother. "Where'd it go?" he asked.

Dean swore. "I don't know!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Flack's desk, present_

"You lost me," Flack said, shaking his head.

"I'm telling you- it's not a spirit. Whatever is in that building isn't dead," Dean explained.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**If memory serves, this is where I left everyone hanging last time. It won't happen again. Thanksomuch to my reviewers: Spontaneity, Michael Martin, bethsmom, becca996 and halifaxhoney. Your reviews make my day, I love reading them!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY"; they are the property of Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. I also don't own the boys of "Supernatural"; they are property of Eric Kripke and the WB.**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Seven**

"Danny."

Danny turned to see Mac Taylor coming up behind him. "Hey, Mac- whoa," Danny said, noting the cuts and scrapes on Mac's face. "What happened?"

"It's nothing." Mac shrugged it off easily. "Congratulations, I hear you're getting married?"

Danny smiled. "Yeah, I am."

"New York or Montana?"

Danny glanced across the hall to where Lindsay was processing some evidence. "That depends on Montana," he said.

Mac nodded. "Look, I hate to ruin your day, but...can I talk to you for a sec?"

Immediately sensing he knew what this was about, Danny mutely followed Mac into his office. Mac took a seat behind his desk. Danny sat himself in a chair in front of it. "What's up, Mac?"

"Has Lindsay told you anything about the case she and I are working?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Peyton and I were attacked by Spike Gareth," Mac explained. "She's not too happy with us."

"She killed that girl," Danny said with certainty. Mac seemed surprised at his sure tone. He looked at Danny questioningly.

"I...I _saw_ her do it."

Mac said, "You had a nightmare."

"Oh no," Danny got up and began to pace. "No, I actually _made_ this one happen."

"How?" Mac was very interested. He'd told Danny never to ignore the visions and dreams he had. This was the first time he'd ever heard of Danny actually _inducing_ a vision. It was certainly an exciting development.

"I went down to the morgue, put my hand on the girl's head and bada bing, there it was. Gave me a hell of a migraine, let me tell ya." Danny sighed. "Damn, and I thought this was over."

"Danny, we have to find her before she kills someone else. She isn't going to stop with us," Mac said. He was thinking of Peyton as he spoke.

"Where do we start?"

"Sam Winchester will be working with you, Lindsay and me. I'm hoping he'll have some theories."

As if on cue, there was a tap on Mac's door. The younger Winchester brother looked apologetic that he was interrupting their conversation, but Mac waved him in. "Hi, Sam," he said.

"Was I interrupting? I can come back," Sam offered.

"Nah, we're done," Danny cut in. Sam nodded.

"Have a seat," Mac said. Sam sat down on the couch Mac kept in his office. Danny closed the office door. "So we've told you that some of the vampires from the Darkness Falls bust are still out there."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I heard that."

"One of them is the ringleader's kid," Danny told him. "And she ain't too happy with me and Mac."

"Sounds like you've got a problem," Sam said. "What do you need me to do?"

"We need to get her out in the open," Mac said. He looked at Sam. "Is there any way to bring her in- _without_ killing her?"

Sam thought about it. "No. You can't really 'cure' vampires," he said. "You can poison them, but you can't just get rid of the fangs."

Mac nodded, accepting that answer. "All right. Then what we need to do is get her out in the open. What did you say kills vampires again?"

"Beheading, silver," Sam ticked them off his fingers. "Holy water and garlic pisses them off."

"If we could get Spike somewhere where you could get a clear shot, could you take her out?"

Sam nodded. "I'm not the crack shot my brother is, but I've done it before." He nodded, semi-confident. "Yeah, no problem." He looked at the two detectives. "Which one of you is gonna be bait?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So what other explanations do you have for me, Dean?" Stella Bonasera was sitting at her desk. Flack, Hawkes and Dean Winchester were all in her office. "If it isn't dead, you can't hurt it with rock salt, then what is it, and how do you get rid of it?"

Dean shrugged. "I have a couple of ideas, but nothing conclusive."

"So how do we determine what kind of entity it is?" Hawkes asked. Flack and Dean both looked at the young doctor questioningly. Hawkes shrugged. "Watch a lot of the Sci-Fi channel," he explained.

"We're gonna have to dig into what was going on at that place," Dean said. "Research what exactly the good doctor was doing to his patients. We'll also probably need to go by there again, stake the place out."

"Then we'll split up," Flack said. "Dean and Hawkes can go to the Institute and Stel and I will hit the books."

"I think it should be you and Dean," Stella told Flack. "Dean has the experience and you've got a gun and badge in case something goes crazy over there." She looked at Hawkes. "No offense."

He shrugged. "None taken." He knew _exactly_ why Stella had suggested that. It was so Dean and Flack would be forced to work together. And Hawkes was more than happy to face mounds of paperwork over a psycho killer ghost-thing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny stepped out of Mac's office. It had been an interesting conversation. But at least now they had a plan of sorts.

He took a deep breath. Now he just had to tell Lindsay what it was.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stella poked at her computer with not so much enthusiasm. Hawkes was downstairs using a computer there to research the Institute, and Stella was working from her desk. Dean and Flack had gone to go set up a stake-out at Harbinger.

She was staring at files right now, but they were all files from the regular patients. None of them were the German POWs that Smithers had supposedly tested on.

Her office line buzzed, and Stella picked it up. "Crime Lab, Bonasera."

"_St-Stella?_"

"Jessica, is that you?" Stella noted that the sixteen-year-old sounded like she'd been crying.

"_I'm sorry to bother you,_" Jessica said. "_I can call back, if you want me to._"

"No, honey, it's fine that you called. What's the matter? Is everything okay?"

The teenager burst into tears. "Jessica," Stella said, her heart going out to the girl. "Jessica, do you want to meet me somewhere so we can talk?"

_"O-okay_," she replied.

Stella gave her the address of her apartment. Then she dialed Hawkes' extension downstairs. "Hey. I'm cutting out a little early. I'll do my homework, I promise," she said. She quickly explained what was happening. Hawkes told her it was no big deal, to take as long as she wanted, and he'd cover for her. Stella hung up, grabbed her purse, her keys, and her cell phone, and headed for the elevator.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lindsay was chatting with Adam and Peyton in the break room when Danny finally caught up to her. "Hey, beautiful," he greeted her. He came up beside her and slung an arm around her shoulders. "You guys mind if I borrow her for a couple minutes?" he asked the lab tech and the medical examiner.

"Go ahead," Peyton replied.

"She's your fiancée, not mine," was Adam's reply.

"She is, isn't she." Danny had to smile as he led Lindsay down the hall to his office. He let her in, and then closed the door behind them.

He didn't need his visions to tell him that there would be yelling happening in his near future.

"So what's up?" Lindsay asked him, perching on the edge of his desk. "I thought I'd tell you I'm calling Mom and Dad tonight about the whole proposal thing. I don't know when you want to tell your dad."

"I'm about due for a visit," Danny explained. His tone softened as he added, "I'll drop by and tell Louie, too." He looked at the ground for a few moments before continuing. "So Mac and Sam Winchester and me, we think we've got a plan to deal with Spike."

"What kind of plan?" Lindsay asked.

"To take her out, we're gonna have to get in close so Sam can get off a shot with a silver bullet."

Lindsay wasn't an idiot. She knew where this was headed. "Uh-huh. So which one of you is gonna be the bait?"

He carefully held up a hand.

"No," Lindsay said flatly. "No way."

"Linds-" Danny began, but Lindsay held up a hand, cutting him off.

"No, _Danny_. Listen to me for a second. You've put yourself at risk too many times in the past three years! Damn it, Danny, we are _engaged_ now, in case you've forgotten." She looked at him, the start of tears forming in her eyes. "I can't lose you. Not now."

He lifted a hand and ran it down her cheek. "Montana, if there was anybody else for the job, believe me, I'd hand it over in a heartbeat. But both Sam and Mac are better shots than me, and Mac was a Marine, so he's got all that hand to hand stuff goin' on. I've got great backup," he told her. "Nothing is gonna happen to me. Nothing." He squeezed her hand. "I've got a wedding to plan, remember?" He attempted a smile. "I'm thinking all the groomsmen should wear chartreuse tuxes."

She finally smiled. "You're dodging," she accused.

"Got you to smile though," Danny said. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "Don't worry, Montana. You aren't gonna lose me."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Sorry about the wait! I'm still hashing out the ending on this thing. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Stella met Jessica Anders at her doorway. The teen was clearly distraught, but trying to hide it so it seemed like it was no big deal. She was wearing ripped jeans, sneakers and a plain T-shirt. She had a backpack hanging on one shoulder.

"Hi," Stella said. She gave the girl a hug as she unlocked her door. She let Jessica go ahead. "Do you want something to drink? I've got some soda and...water...and that's about it." Stella smiled apologetically. "Haven't been to the market lately."

She got the girl to smile. That was what she was going for. "I'm okay, thanks," she said.

Stella gestured to the couch. "Have a seat."

Jessica gingerly sat down on the couch. Stella sat on the other end. "You didn't sound okay over the phone," Stella began. "Anything you want to talk to me about?"

"I ran away," Jessica said straight out. She tapped her backpack. "Everything that's mine is in this bag. I can't live there anymore."

"What happened?"

"All the kids there...they all heard about what happened to Justin and Anna. They all blame me. It's the same with all the kids in school. Nobody will talk to me. They whisper behind my back...I can't take it anymore. I'm getting out of New York, starting over somewhere else." She looked down, then out the window. "I just...I wanted you to know. You're kinda the only friend I have right now."

"Oh, Jessica. Honey, running isn't going to solve your problem," Stella said. "It won't make the pain go away. This is just something that you and everyone else are going to have to deal with."

"You don't know what it's like!" Jessica cried. "Everyone hates me, nobody talks to me. I get notes and stuff in my locker. The Kelsos blame me and everyone _knows_ it. I think everyone else does, too!" She shook her head. "I can't deal with this. I don't know how, and I don't want to." She looked at Stella and sighed. "My only friend is a cop, I mean, that's not exactly normal." She bit her lip. "No offense."

"None taken, I understand completely," Stella said. She thought about it for a few minutes. "Jessica, if you want, you're welcome to stay here for a couple of days. Things will blow over in time, and everyone just needs time to cope. Everyone's scared and shaken, and this is the only way they can think of to deal with the situation. It's not you, it's everyone else. What they won't admit to themselves is that everybody, _everybody_, would have done what you did. It's just the way we operate."

"You mean it? About me staying here? I-I don't want to put you out," Jessica protested. "I don't want to cause any trouble."

"It's no trouble," Stella said firmly. She winked at her. "And I'll be okay if you skip school for a couple days."

"Really?" the teen asked.

Stella nodded. "Absolutely."

"Thanks," Jessica said, reaching across the couch to give Stella a hug. Stella returned it, vaguely wondering how she was going to explain Jessica to Flack and Mac when they asked. Then she dismissed it. Neither of them would care. In fact, she highly suspected that Mac would do the same thing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Anything?" Flack whispered.

Dean had to refrain from a witty comeback. "Not yet." There was a splash in the river behind them, and Dean whipped around, almost biting it, managing to catch himself before he hit the ground.

Flack snorted. "I think that was a fish. Or a tire. But not a sea monster."

"Dude, when I get a thousand bucks, you're so not getting any."

"Your sea monster is probably a mutated carp or something," Flack told him. "If this thing's been living in the river, then how come nobody's seen it until now?"

"Hey, Detective, get your priorities straight and stop thinking about the monster," Dean tossed back. "We have a case to solve."

Flack opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. It wasn't worth the oxygen to make a retort. "So what are we doin' exactly?" he asked Dean. "What is that thing?"

Dean shook the small contraption. "This is an EMF reader," he explained. "It's said that spirits generate strong electromagnetic fields when they manifest."

Flack raised an eyebrow. "Wow. A six-syllable word. Dean, I'm impressed."

"That's the best you got?" Dean asked dryly. "Come on, Flack, let's go inside. Unless you're, I dunno, _scared_ or something."

"Someone's gotta watch your ass," Flack replied. He gestured. "After you."

Dean held the EMF reader ahead of him as he and Flack stepped into the building. Flack's gun was trained on the area ahead of them. The two worked in silence for a few minutes, until they stepped past Exam 7, which was still cordoned off with crime scene tape. Then Flack heard a whirring sound. He looked at Dean. "What's it doing?"

"The meter? It picked up something," Dean said slowly. He looked around. "Whoa." He turned back to Flack. "Did you feel that?"

Flack nodded. "Yeah," he said, shivering. "It just dropped like twenty degrees in here."

"Usually a sign of something...creepy," the Winchester brother replied. "Heads up."

That was no problem for Flack. Whatever was going to happen, he was going to be ready. No way in hell was something else supernatural going to take him by chance. His senses were all on alert.

Dean's nose picked up the smell of something...decomposing. "Can you smell that?" he asked Flack.

Flack sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "You forget deodorant today, or what?"

"Shut up," Dean said, finally serious. "I know that smell."

"Unfortunately, so do I," Flack replied. "I think it's coming from down the hall."

"You hear that?"

Flack was picking up the sound. Whispers. Very faint, but it sounded a little like, "_Down here_."

"'Down here'?" he repeated.

"You heard it, too?" Dean asked him. Flack nodded. He took the safety off his gun. "Up this way," Flack said, taking the lead.

That was fine with Dean. If something happened, the better shot was backup, in Dean's mind. He followed the detective towards the sounds. Flack paused outside the room and held up a finger to Dean. _Wait_. Then, he burst forward, leveling the gun into the room.

"Whoa." Flack threw an arm over his mouth and nose. Dean aimed the flashlight onto the floor.

A young man's body was there. He was wearing a letterman jacket from the Kelso kids' high school. Flack looked around for obvious signs of death, but wasn't getting anything. Until he heard the voice again. "_Here_."

He looked at Dean. "What?"

He shrugged. "Not me." He waved a hand to the corner. "From over there somewhere."

"Here."

Both men turned around. Dean's first instinct was to open fire with the rock salt rifle. Flack's first instinct was to drop his jaw open in surprise.

It was sort of see-through, it was talking to them, and it just happened to look like the young man lying dead on the floor behind them. And, yeah, it sort of resembled a _ghost_.

"Holy..." Flack trailed off.

The young man looked sad. "I'm dead."

"I noticed," Dean said, keeping a straight face. "What the hell happened here?"

"Smithers," he said. "The mad scientist guy. He did it."

"Did what?" Dean asked. Flack wasn't being much help. He hadn't quite recovered yet. The detective's jaw was still on the ground. Flack was definitely going to get hell later.

"He killed me. I saw him do it."

"What's your name?" The question was from Flack, who seemed to finally be in his right mind.

"David," he said. "David Lyons. I saw him kill Justin, too. And Anna. I knew them."

"From where?"

"School," David's ghost said. He smiled forlornly and shoved his hands in ghostly jean pockets. "I came here on the bet. The one for a hundred bucks. That was two weeks ago."

"Nobody's reported you missing," Flack said, mentally checking off people on his list down at the station.

David sighed. "It's not that unusual for me to disappear, you know?" he explained, almost apologetically.

"So what's going on here?" Dean asked him. This was new territory for him. Usually he was killing them, not chatting them up.

"I came in," David explained. "I heard voices. I followed them down here. Something hit me. Then I woke up, I was stuck in that chair," he said, nodding to the dentist-looking chair behind them. "Then he came in."

"Smithers? Is he dead?" Flack asked.

David shook his head like it was a stupid question. "No. Yes. I'm not sure, actually. Ugly as hell," he explained with a short smile. "Anyway, he had these wires. He attached them to me. He was electrocuting me, or something kinda like that. It hurt," David said, his voice cracking. "It hurt so bad." He paused for a minute, reliving the moment. "Then something happened. I think I passed out, at least it's what it felt like. Then I was floating. Saw myself in the chair. He like, split me from my body," David said. His voice fell quiet. "Then I think I died..." He spread his hands. "Been here ever since."

"Sick," Flack spat. Dean had to agree.

"I think he was gonna do it to Justin, too, but Justin screamed, and then so did Anna. He couldn't take them by surprise," David said. "I-"

He stopped. His eyes went wide. "You gotta get out of here," he said. "I can feel him. He's coming back."

"So we'll just shoot him," Flack said. "He's alive, it'll kill him."

"If he's dead, you'll be a bullet short," Dean replied. He looked at the kid. "Hey, we'll be back, okay?"

"I'm not going anywhere," David said. Then he looked up, past them. "_Go!_ Get out of here!"

Dean didn't argue. He grabbed Flack by the arm and yanked him from the room.

They didn't even see the pair of eyes watching them run from the building.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mac, Danny and Lindsay stood on the roof of the apartment complex. The lights of New York City were bright, but they didn't do anything for the horrible sight on the roof. "Couple on their way to a romantic tryst found her," the security guard explained.

"Hey," Danny said. "Mac, come here."

Mac and Lindsay both came over. "Definitely her," Danny said. He didn't have to explain who 'her' was. Everyone that needed to know knew. He pointed out the two puncture wounds.

"It looks like she snapped her neck first," Lindsay noted. Then she saw something in the girl's pocket. Donning a glove, she tugged it free.

_Told you there'd be more for you_, it said.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**All right, so it was a little...uh...well, _strange_ would be a good word. What did you think? Totally random? Like it, love it, hate it? I promise, I think it'll all make sense in the end ;) Feedback is usually warranted and always appreciated!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY"; they are the property of CBS and Anthony Zuiker. I also don't own the Winchesters from "Supernatural," they're property the WB and Eric Kripke.**

**Can anyone else besides me totally picture Jensen Ackles (Dean) and Eddie Cahill getting up in each other's faces while Jared Padalecki (Sam) and Carmine Giovinazzo kinda stand back rolling their eyes?**

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**CHAPTER NINE**

"Learn anything?" Hawkes asked Stella the next day.

She shook her head. "The records that were seized are all...normal," she said. "Nothing in the records states that the good doctor was up to something. It's all hearsay from his staff and patients."

"So everybody knew that he was doing something wacky but they didn't know what _and_ they couldn't prove it. Great, that's a lot of help."

"HA!"

Stella and Hawkes both looked up to see Dean and Flack come into Stella's office. Flack was holding a picture in his hand. "I _told _you," Dean said triumphantly. "David John Lyons, hasn't shown up for classes in two weeks."

"Dean, I still have no idea what the hell I saw last night," Flack said. "I'm not sure I'm ready to jump straight to 'ghost', okay?"

"Yeah, spend all the time you want denying it. What we ran into last night was most _definitely_-"

"Ahem."

Both Dean and Flack looked up sheepishly. Stella and Hawkes were looking at them strangely. "Care to share with the class?" Hawkes asked the two.

They exchanged looks. Ironic that the man Flack was convinced had been keeping secrets from him earlier was now sharing a secret with him. "It was an interesting night," Flack asserted. "Don't ask." He looked at them. "You guys find anything?"

"Nothing indicating what kind of experiments Smithers was performing on his patients," Stella said.

"I think I might have an idea," Dean said. "You seen Sammy?"

"Your brother?" Hawkes asked. When Dean nodded, Hawkes said, "He's with Mac, Danny and Lindsay downstairs in Autopsy."

Dean turned to Flack. "I'll be back." Without another word, he disappeared out of the office and to the elevator.

Stella raised an eyebrow. "Flack, what exactly were you two doing last night?"

"A little nighttime stakeout," Flack said. It was true, sort of.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Same COD," Peyton was telling Mac. She gave him a Look. The look said, _You need to tell me what in the hell is going on. Right now_.

He knew he couldn't dodge forever, and that she was going to find out sooner or later. Mac turned to Lindsay, Danny and Sam Winchester. "You want to give us a minute?"

"Take all the time you need," Danny said. "We'll just go...ah...over here." He pulled on Lindsay's arm and Sam followed them to the corner of the room. The three of them watched Mac and Peyton head into Sid Hammerbeck's office. Sam turned to the CSIs. "We can't keep this up," he said. "She'll keep killing people if we don't do something."

"I don't like this. At all." That was from Lindsay. Again. She felt like a broken record, but everytime she looked at her hand, the ring reminded her of what she had to lose if something went wrong.

"We don't have a choice," Danny said. "Can't exactly find the girl, we gotta make her come to us." Part of him wanted to just let Mac deal with Spike. But the other part of him tugged him toward finishing what he'd started. Frankly, it was driving him nuts. He hated having to pick between Lindsay and his job.

Something caught Sam's eye, and he looked up to see Dean standing in the Autopsy doorway. Dean beckoned him over. "I'll be back," Sam said abruptly, and ducked out to meet his brother. "What happened last night?" Sam asked him. "You didn't come back to the hotel."

"I did too, I just did it later and left early," Dean replied. "Listen, I think I know what Smithers was trying to do at the Institute."

"Really? What?" Sam asked, interested.

"Remember when we fired on him, but hit nothin' but air?" Sam nodded, and Dean continued. "Here's what I think. Last night, Flack an' I ran into the ghost of some kid that Smithers got to. Here's the thing. He said Smithers strapped him to a chair and electrocuted him or something, and the kid felt himself leave his body."

"Smithers split the spirit from the body?" Sam was surprised. He'd heard about it, read about it, never actually seen it. "Has that ever been done? How's he doing it?"

"I dunno, but see what I don't understand is why the rock salt didn't affect him," Dean said. "Rock salt should have put a serious dent in its day. Spirit plus rock salt equals _bad_."

"What if...and hear me out here..." Sam was thinking off the top of his head. He had no clue if what he was gonna say sounded legit. "Maybe Smithers isn't dead."

"Oh, okay," Dean said, nodding to show he understood. Then he shook his head. "Don't follow."

"If it was a real spirit, rock salt would have hurt like hell," Sam said. "But if Smithers is still alive, just split from his body, it's not a _real_ spirit, per se, 'cause he's not dead? So maybe rock salt has no effect?"

Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam shrugged. "Seriously? I got nothing, and I doubt that Dad ever came across something like this. This is new territory."

"Dad never would have believed this," Dean said, attempting to process. "This is nuts."

"This is crazy," Sam agreed. "So what do we do?"

Dean shrugged. "Try to catch him in the act, I guess. Or give him something to go after." He looked at Sam. "We've never gone after something not dead, before. We're a little out of our league. I'm not quite ready to graduate to murder." He frowned. "Or is it not murder because he's half alive and half not..." He rolled his eyes. "Hell, screw it."

Sam said, "No kidding. We should probably bring Flack in on this. It's more his area."

"God, I wish we only had to worry about a picture of Nessie," Dean said. "This just got a hell of a lot more complicated."

"Tell me about it."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peyton Driscoll sat on the edge of Sid's desk. Mac stood before her. "Spill it, Mac," she told him. "What happened affected me, too. And I'm seeing the bodies in my morgue, Mac, so what in the world is gong on?"

"Good thing you're sitting down," he said. He wasn't sure where to start. This was going to be a lot to process. "All right. A few months ago... a body turned up. Two punctures in the neck, drained of blood. We all joked about it, vampires, you know." He sighed. "Then it turns out we were right."

"Vampires."

He nodded.

"Have you been drinking?"

Mac looked at her. "You've known me for _how_ long?"

"Point taken. Go on."

"Anyway..." Mac shook his head. Unfortunately, this story just got crazier. "Turns out these vampires were heralding the coming of something else. A...a demon." He heard Peyton snort, but pressed on. "We teamed up with Sam and Dean Winchester, who have been tracking and hunting this stuff since...well, I don't know how long, exactly, but a long time. Anyway, to make a long, complicated story short and simple, we killed a bunch of vampires, and sent this demon back to Hell."

He realized right then that he sounded like a complete nut. "Peyton, I'm as skeptical as they come. But I saw it all with my own eyes. Flack and Stella, Danny and Lindsay, too. We were all there. It almost killed Lindsay and Danny. It almost killed _me_. _It_ broke Flack's arm, not some ceiling tile."

"You're forgetting part of the story," Peyton said. He was crazy. He _had_ to be. Vampires? Demons? Coming from her Mac, this sounded _insane_. "The girl from the other night. Where does she fit in?"

"Spike?"

"Spike." Peyton let the name roll off her tongue like the punchline to a bad joke.

"She's the daughter of one of the head vampires. The guy in charge of bringing this demon back. We let her go, we didn't think she'd be a problem." He looked at Peyton. "I am so sorry for getting you involved in all this." He took her hand. "I...I understand if you don't..." Mac stopped. He understood, but Mac couldn't bring himself to say it.

Peyton gently eased her hand from his grip. "I'm going to need some time to...process...all this."

Mac nodded. "Take what time you need."

She got up and left the room, leaving him alone.

Mac hated the feeling of not knowing what was going to happen next.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Next chapter takes a break from the case. These poor people need some downtime! Some FIESTA moments and Lindsay and Danny break the news of the engagement to Danny's dad!**


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Stella and Flack returned to Stella's place after work. "This case just keeps getting weirder and weirder," Stella was telling Flack as she opened the door.

A faint whiff of something caught her senses, and she inhaled again. "Okay," she said. "Whatever that is, that is _amazing_."

Jessica Anders popped her head out of the kitchen. "Hi!" she said, surprised. "I didn't think you'd be home this soon. I don't know what your shifts are." She saw Flack there and smiled. "Hi, Detective."

"Call me Flack." Flack looked at Stella questioningly. It occurred to her that she hadn't told anyone that Jessica was staying with her. _I'll explain later_, she mouthed to Flack. "What is that?" Stella asked the teen.

"Chicken Kiev," Jessica replied. She smiled shyly as she explained, "One of the few things I can make that doesn't come in a can or a box."

"It smells great," Flack complimented her.

She bit her lip. "I didn't know it wouldn't just be me and Stella. I think I only made enough for two." Then she brightened. "So, I'll just make a sandwich and you guys can have the Kiev."

"Nah, it's okay," Flack tried. "I ate already." He didn't want to put the girl out after she'd worked so hard.

"No, it's all good," Jessica said. "Seriously." She grinned at Stella. "I don't mind." She flipped off the stove. "It's ready. Seriously, eat." She went to the refrigerator and picked out some Miracle Whip and some deli turkey. When she poked her head out of the fridge, Stella and Flack were still waiting. "You _guys_," Jessica commanded with a smile. "Eat!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Anybody home?" Danny Messer opened the screen door. Inside, the sounds of some kind of sports game echoed from the living room of his parents' house. "Come on in," he told Lindsay. "You're about to get a lesson in "early Danny."

Lindsay followed him into the house. She pulled her shoes off (out of habit, even if some of the floors in New York looked like you needed a Haz-Mat suit to cross them) and followed behind Danny into the living room.

"Dad?" Danny snagged the remote and flicked off the TV.

"Hey! Who comes in here, turns off my game? Only one guy's got that much gall!" Gabriel Messer shifted so he was looking at his son. "Danny. How you been?"

"Hi, Dad," Danny said. "You look good." It was true. His father was a hardcore smoker. He usually looked chronically pale and sick, with a smoke-riddled cough to match. But Gabriel Messer, at the age of 61, looked really good.

Gabriel pointed to the little trash can beside the recliner. Danny spotted a cigarette carton in there. "Dad, are you trying to quit?" Danny asked hopefully. He hoped so. God, he hoped so. His father smoked like a chimney, had since Danny was a little kid. It was where he'd learned the habit, and so had Louie. Gabe Messer had gotten on both their tails for smoking. Danny had quit. Louie chose not to. It was a classic case of "Do as I say, not as I do."

His father nodded. "Smokin's bad for ya, or so they tell me." He looked at his son. "So, what brings ya back to our neighborhood?"

Danny smiled. "Dad, there's someone I want you to meet." He beckoned Lindsay into the room. She'd stopped at the doorway, feeling very much like an intruder. But when Danny waved her in, she stepped up beside him and put a hand on Danny's back. "Dad, this is Lindsay Monroe. My fiancé."

Gabriel's eyes widened. "This is the Lindsay I've heard so much about?" He climbed out of the recliner and stood. He gave Lindsay the once-over. "You were right, Danny," Gabriel said. "Your mother would have loved her. She's beautiful."

Lindsay blushed self-consciously. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Messer." She held out a hand.

"Please," Gabriel scoffed. "Not that Mister stuff. Mister Messer is his grandfather," he said jerking a thumb at Danny. He took Lindsay's hand and kissed it. "Danny gets his good manners from me," he informed her.

"I can see that," Lindsay replied, looking at Danny over Gabriel Messer's shoulder. Danny's face was an expression of surprise he was trying to cover with a smile.

"So you two are gettin' married. Do you know when?"

"October," Lindsay replied.

"That's five months," Gabriel said, surprised at how soon it was. "You think you can get it all figured out by then?"

"Most of my family can fly in, and most of Danny's already lives here. So do our friends," Lindsay explained. "Or it could be the other way around. I just don't know if I want to do it in New York or home in Montana."

"Both are beautiful in the fall, they would compliment you well," Gabriel said.

Danny had never seen his dad acting so smooth. Not since his mother was alive. Danny hated to chance changing the subject and his dad's good mood, but there was something they needed to discuss. "Look, Dad," Danny said. He gestured to the recliner. His father sat down again. Lindsay and Danny sat on the couch across from him. Lindsay slipped an arm through Danny's. "I asked Don Flack to be my best man." He shrugged. "I just...I don't know if Louie'll be out of his coma by then...you know? I want it to be Louie, I really do. But since we don't know...I figured Flack could step in."

Gabriel processed that. Then he nodded. "I understand. Have you...have you been by to see him lately? Is he...is he all right?"

"Yeah, Dad, yeah," Danny said. "He's fine. I mean, the machines are still helpin' him breathe and he's still out, but he hasn't gotten worse, which is a good sign." He squeezed Lindsay's hand.

Gabriel sat quietly for a moment. Then he said, "Good. I'm glad he's doing all right." He turned to Lindsay. "Have Danny show you around the place," he told her. "This is your opportunity to get blackmail material, you know. For later in life."

Lindsay smiled. "I'd like that."

Danny stood. "Come on. I'll show you my room, first." He grinned. "All the good stuff's in there."

"Your dad seems great," Lindsay said as they headed upstairs. "Nobody's kissed my hand since I was Snow White in the sixth grade play."

"I thought she got kissed on the mouth."

"Ben Tucker didn't like girls."

"Dad always was the romantic type. You shoulda seen him an' my mom," Danny said, pausing to remember. "He'd come home from work an' she'd be in the kitchen makin' dinner. He'd grab her around the waist, give her a kiss and then dance with her around the kitchen to the oldies station on the radio. Me an' Louie would sit there and watch." He smiled. "Louie always thought it was kinda cheesy. But I loved it."

He pointed. "There it is. Casa Danny until I was eighteen." He stood in the hall while Lindsay stepped into the room.

Posters of Mets players from years past were plastered to the walls. There was a baseball trophy from some Little League tournament sitting on a desk. A couple model airplanes sat there. There were some family pictures, too. One was of the entire Messer clan, and it was then that Lindsay got her first look at Danny's mother Elena. It was a professional photo, so she was sitting, but she was at least a head shorter than Gabriel Messer. Danny was the only one shorter than she. She had wide blue eyes-_Danny's eyes_- and a gorgeous smile.

Danny slid up behind her. "That's Mom," he said.

"She was beautiful," Lindsay told him. "I see where you got your eyes."

"Dad used to say I got her eyes, her smile and her sense of humor- everything he didn't have," Danny said. "I got my dad's athleticism; he played football in high school."

"How did she..." Lindsay stopped. It occured to her that Danny hadn't ever said anything about his mother to her. And "How did she die?" seemed like kind of a pushy question. Maybe Danny didn't want to talk about her, which was why he'd never said anything.

Danny took the picture from her and ran a finger lightly over his mother's face. "My first year at the academy," he began. "Like the first or second week of training. Got a phone call. Dad told me that, ah, she'd gotten a ride home from work with a friend of hers. The car got hit by some kid on a joyride. Hit the passenger side of the car. Her friend walked away with a broken arm. Mom..." He set the picture back on the desk. "Mom didn't make it to the hospital."

"I'm sorry, Danny," Lindsay said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I have all the good memories to focus on," Danny told her quietly. "It's okay."

Lindsay had picked up the second picture on the desk. This one was of a young Danny and a teenaged Louie. Louie had his arm around Danny's shoulders. They were both sporting Mets baseball hats. Danny didn't have glasses then, and Louie's hair was a little shorter, but other than that the Messer boys hadn't changed at all. Both were smiling in the picture. "You and Louie were close, once," she said.

Danny nodded, taking the picture from her and examining it. "Yeah. We used to do everything together. Louie'd throw a ball around with me, we'd go ride bikes to Coney Island." He put the picture down. "Until Louie joined Tanglewood. Then it was like he didn't want anything to do with me. I guess, when I got older, he tried to fix that, got me in with the gang, but I never was as serious about it as Louie was." He smiled sadly. "You know the rest, of course."

"I'm sorry for dredging up bad memories," Lindsay said. Sheesh, but she was batting zero tonight.

"'Sokay." Danny smiled. "You were gonna learn it all sooner or later." He urged her out of the room, brightening up. "Come on, let's go before you find something _really_ incriminating."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few hours later, they were standing on a sidewalk on Staten Island looking at the Atlantic Ocean. Lindsay shivered. It wasn't just that it was getting chilly... it was because that night Danny, Mac and Sam were going to find Spike.

"Do you have to do this?" she begged him one final time. "Why can't it just be Mac and Sam?"

"Because _I_ let her go," Danny said. "I have to be there, Lindsay. I can't just let this one go."

She looked at him. "Be careful, all right? You come back to me tonight, Daniel Messer. Understand?"

He kissed her. His promise that he would be back that night.

He just hoped it was one he could keep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jessica Anders was crashed on the couch. Flack and Stella had finished eating and were sitting in the kitchen talking.

Flack turned his head to the living room. "So, what's her story, anyway?"

"She's been through hell. She told me that her parents were both drug addicts, and that they left her on her own at the age of five. Someone found her and turned her into social services. They never did track down her parents. She's the oldest kid at this foster place that holds like twenty-some kids. I guess the people that run the place are very much more in love with the little kids than they are with her. They do enough to get her through school until she's eighteen, then she's on her own."

"Sad," Flack said. He looked over the kitchen table and watched the teenager sleep.

"She's an amazing girl, though, Flack. She's really good with the little kids. She's a great student. She managed to make friends, at least, until all this crazy stuff happened to her. She told me she wants to go to college and become a social worker." Stella sighed. "I just don't want to see her fall through the cracks when she turns eighteen." She took a sip of the coffee she'd made and sighed. "I wish I could do something for her. But she can't stay at my house forever. I don't have the financial resources, and I can't legally keep her here." Stella was frustrated. She'd thought a lot about this over the past couple of days. She wanted so badly to help the girl out, but didn't know what she could do. It drove her crazy not knowing what to do.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over on the couch, Jessica wasn't sleeping. She'd woken up at the sound of her name earlier in the conversation and had listened quietly. It nearly brought her to tears when Stella talked about wanting to be able to help her, but not knowing how. _She doesn't realize how much she's already done._ Jessica knew she couldn't impose on Stella Bonasera's life for much longer. She faked a yawn and stood up. "Hi," she said. "How was dinner?"

"Great," Stella replied.

"Can I get you to come over to my place sometime?" Flack teased her.

Jessica smiled. "We'll see," she said. She turned to Stella. "Can I go for a walk?"

Stella nodded. "Sure, kid. Be back before it gets dark though, okay? And stay out of Central Park. Walk Times Square if you have to. Don't go anywhere where there aren't any people."

"No problem," Jessica said, slipping on her shoes. "I'll see you."

"Bye," Stella said, and Flack waved.

Jessica tossed them a wave as she closed the door behind her.

Before she left town, there was somewhere she had to go first.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY"; they are the property of Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. I also don't own the boys from "Supernatural," they belong to Eric Kripke and the WB. **

**Anybody happen to know when they're putting Season 2 of Supernatural out on DVD?**

**Sorry it's taken so long. I'm fine-tuning the ending. It's coming soon!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

"Can we rethink this plan?" Danny asked Mac. He, Mac and Sam Winchester were standing in downtown New York City in the middle of the night. It was chilly, and Danny buttoned his leather jacket up another notch.

"Danny, we have to do this. I don't like it anymore than you," Mac said. "But it's all we got."

"I was kiddin', Mac. You know, if this chick kills me, Lindsay will kill you both," Danny warned them. He was trying to keep the tone light, but there was an ominous feeling in the cold air.

"I'll let her," Mac replied, but his tone was far from joking. Danny had been sensing something was off with his boss all night.

"Girl troubles?" Danny asked him. He knew the feeling.

Mac buttoned his jacket up another notch. "Peyton thinks I'm crazy," he said.

"You told her about all this, huh?" Danny asked.

"I'm wishing I hadn't," he replied.

"Look at it this way," Sam cut in. For a moment, he felt like he'd butted into a conversation he wasn't supposed to be a part of. But when Mac and Danny both looked like they were waiting for an answer, Sam continued, "If you hadn't told her, you'd be keeping a big secret from her. And that's worse than not telling her."

"Spoken from experience?" Mac asked him.

Sam thought of Stanford and Jessica and nodded briefly. "Unfortunately, yeah."

There was awkward silence.

"I hope this works," Sam said. His fingers were gripped around the revolver in his pocket with a barrel of silver bullets. His brother would be less than thrilled if something happened to him tonight. They had lost their dad, and it would be devastating on one or the other of them if they got left alone. He wished Dean was here. Dean was a better shot, kept a cooler head, knew what to do if something went wrong...

A few tense and silent minutes passed. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea. New York is huge," Danny said. "How's she gonna know where to find us?"

"You smell," a voice hissed.

The three men turned. Spike leaned lazily on the fire escape rail above them. She was dressed in black pants and a white leather jacket. The piece of hair streaked blue fell into her eye. Spike looked around the alley. "And so does this alley." She wrinkled her nose. "God, could you have picked a nastier place to have this throwdown?"

"Wanted you to feel at home," Danny spat.

She pouted. "Aw, Detective, now that was a little low, wasn't it?"

"You've been makin' me regret lettin' you live for a while now, Spike," Danny said. "Figured you'd be grateful we didn't off you."

"Oh, I was." Spike jumped the railing and landed easily the ten feet below it. She was now face to face with Mac, Danny and Sam. "But you killed my dad, detective," she said pointedly to Mac. She glared at Danny. "And you were there. You and your damned girlfriend.

"Damned girlfriend? Now _that's_ kinda the pot callin' the kettle black, ain't it?" Danny shot back.

"You've been wasting your time," Mac told Spike. "It wasn't actually me that killed your dad. I helped someone else." He looked directly into her eyes. Usually, anyone on the receiving end of that glance knew they were screwed. "But I don't regret it. In fact, I'd rather you be after me than any of my team. Because you're scared and you _think_ you're tough. And you'll go down just like the others did." His eyes bored into her. It set Spike a little on edge. She wasn't quite used to prey that wanted to fight back.

Not that it mattered.

Spike growled, an animal-like howl, and leapt onto Mac Taylor, sending him to the ground. Danny ran to pull her off, but with one arm, she knocked him into some garbage cans nearby. Danny hit hard, and crumpled to the ground.

Sam pulled out the revolver and took aim. "Damn it." The problem was he ran the risk of hitting Mac. He didn't have a clear shot.

"Shoot her, damn it!" Mac yelled, trying to keep Spike's teeth away from his neck. He slammed his elbow into her face. She growled, her eyes glowing a deep gold, and tried again.

"I can't, I'll hit _you_!" Sam argued.

"It doesn't matter!" Mac shouted back. He tried to elbow her again, but Spike knocked his arm easily away and pinned it down. Spike shoved his head to the side, and leaned in for the kill...

Danny Messer came out of nowhere, past Sam and slammed into Spike like a linebacker, and tore her off Mac. He landed hard on the alley floor. Spike hauled him up by the jacket collar. She cranked his head to the side. "First you, then the old man, then the kid. And then, I'll go after that pretty girl from the club. Lindsay, I think her name was? I'm not gonna stop, Detective, and you won't be able to do a damn thing about it. Tell my Dad I said hi, Detective," she hissed in his ear. "You'll see him in _hell_."

There was a resounding crack that wound its way through the alley. Both Sam and Mac looked around in surprise. Mac looked at Sam. Sam held his hands- his _empty_ hands up in the air. Mac didn't have a gun, at least, not one that would do any good, anyway.

Both of them turned to Spike and Danny. Danny slumped down to the ground. Spike turned to face the other two. The look on her face was one of shock. Her gaze traveled down to her stomach, where a smoking hole was ripped through her jacket. She looked back at Danny, who weakly shook the revolver he'd grabbed from Sam's hand at her. "You'll see him first," he replied as Spike Gareth exploded into a pyre of ashes.

The three men looked at each other. Sam was the first to speak. "Damn, Detective, nice tackle!"

Danny burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. Then he winced. "Ow. That hurts." He got up and started walking out of the alley.

"Danny!" Mac yelled. "Where are you going?"

He didn't answer. He was going home. And he wasn't making one single stop on the way home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lindsay paced Danny's living room floor. She twisted the ring on her finger. She looked out the window into the cool night. The moon peeked in between the sky scrapers.

The door opening made her jump. She turned.

Danny stood there. He had a few cuts and scrapes, and his favorite jacket was ripped.

But he was alive.

Lindsay threw her arms around him. Danny returned the gesture.

They stayed like that for a long time.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mac and Sam were driving back to the lab so Mac could start paperwork on the night's events when Mac's cell phone rang. "Yeah, Stella. What?" He frowned. "How long ago? No, no, okay, we're turning around and coming that way. Give us ten minutes."

He hung up and turned to Sam. "That was Stella. The girl from the Institute, Jessica Anders, is missing."

"Where would she go?" Sam asked.

"If she's planning on skipping town, the airports, the bus stations...she could go anywhere." Mac thought out.

"Why would she run?" Sam wondered.

"People are blaming her for the Kelso kids' deaths." Mac explained.

"Are they serious? It wasn't her fault, there wasn't anything she could've done.""We know that...but it's harder for her. It's almost like survivor's guilt," Mac replied. "The Kelsos used to be the closest thing to family she had."

Sam said, "Mac, would she go back to the Institute before she left?" No idea why he thought that. He just said it.

"It's a possibility," Mac said. Realization dawned.

"Mac...we have to get there. Now," Sam stressed, dialing Dean's phone.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**I'm thinking one or two more chapters on this one. Thanks to gottaluvcsi, who reviewed Chapter 10. I appreciate it!**


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

When Mac and Sam Winchester arrived at the Institute, Stella and Flack were already there in Flack's car. "She here?" Mac asked Stella the second he stepped from the vehicle.

His friend shrugged. "I don't know, we just pulled in." She looked worried.

"Where's Dean?"

Just then, the '67 Impala roared into the alley. The headlights blinked out and the motor shut off as Dean Winchester stepped from the car. He looked at his brother. "Got your call," he said.

The passenger door to the Impala opened, and to Mac's complete and utter surprise, Peyton Driscoll crawled out of the car. "Peyton," Mac said. "What are you doing here?"

She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Mac knew exactly why Peyton was there. The question didn't even need to be asked. He was just surprised to see her.

"So, what?" Sam asked. "We just gonna stand out here all night?"

"No. We're going in," Stella said. She stepped forward, but Flack caught her arm.

"Hold on, Stel. We're sorta forgetting something."

"The longer we stand here-"

"I know, I know!" Flack retorted. "But we need to know how to deal with whatever is in there." He looked over at Dean. "Dean, what do you want us to do?"

Dean seemed taken aback by the fact that Flack was turning it all over to him. He looked over at his brother. Sam nodded. "All right," Dean began. "There's uh, three options. Either he's dead, he's half-dead, half alive, or all alive. If he's dead, then rock salt will hurt like hell. If he's alive, it'll still hurt like hell, but not do anything. And if he's half and half..." he shrugged. "I got nothing."

"So how do we kill him?" The question came from Mac Taylor.

"A combination of the two?" Sam suggested.

"Best idea we have so far," Flack said. "Our priority is Jessica, not him."

"Now that we have _that_ straight, can we _please_ get going?" Stella barked impatiently.

"It's a big place," Mac said. "I think we should split up. Stella, you, Flack and Dean stay downstairs. Sam, Peyton and I will go check the next floor."

Ahead of them, the building loomed, dark and menacing. Rain threatened in the sky above. Somewhere, thunder rumbled.

The six of them moved into the Institute.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Upstairs, Sam could feel tension in the air. It wasn't all because of the supernatural nature of the building. He could practically taste the friction between Mac and Peyton Driscoll. He almost hoped they did find something-Smithers or not. Sam knew what it was like wanting someone so badly to believe you, and having it strain a friendship or relationship. He'd seen it almost everywhere he and Dean went.

"Anything yet?" Mac asked.

Sam panned the EMF reader left and right before shaking his head. "No. Nothing. Which is good, I guess."

Mac took a chance and looked back at Peyton. Her facial features said, very blatantly, _You are all crazy_.

And then, somewhere downstairs, someone screamed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five minutes earlier, Flack, Dean and Stella had entered Exam 7. The room was empty, but Dean's EMF reader was spiking off the charts. "Something definitely was happening in here," he said.

"We don't have time for this room-by-room crap," Stella said. "There has to be a faster way."

Then Flack thought of something. "Dean. If you want to get ahold of a ghost, can you just yell?"

Dean knew what he wanted. "David! Get your translucent ass out here!" he yelled.

"Flack, what the hell?" Stella asked.

"Wait," Flack said. "David Lyons! Show yourself!"

"Dude," a disembodied voice said, "I might be dead, but my hearing's still fine."

David Lyons appeared in front of them. He was still sporting his jacket and jeans.

Stella screamed.

Mac, Sam, and Peyton skidded into the room twenty seconds later. "Oh, my God," Peyton whispered.

Mac felt a small rush of relief.

"Everyone, this is David Lyons. He was just about to tell us _where in the hell Jessica Anders went!_" Flack growled.

"That way," David pointed. "Kinda down where Justin and Anna died. Dude, Smithers is here. I can feel it. Be careful, all right?"

"Thanks," Flack said, as he, Sam and Dean turned around and sprinted from the room. The rest of the crowd stared.

"What?" David growled. "Never seen a dead guy before?"

"A few," Mac shot back. "Let's get out of here," he told Peyton and Stella. The group left the room.

"You're welcome!" David yelled at their backs.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mac jogged down the hall, finally catching Flack and the Winchesters in a room down the hall. They were all standing in the doorway of a room, staring into it. "Holy..." Flack's voice trailed off.

"Shoot, damn it!" Dean yelled, leveling the rock salt at Smithers. Flack aimed his service pistol. For the next few seconds, the walls echoed with the sound of gunfire, the solid hits of the lead bullets, the spray and hiss of rock salt. The smell of gunpowder was thick in Mac's nostrils.

A few moments later, the volley stopped. When the dust in the room cleared, the ghostly Smithers was nowhere to be found. But a very solid body was lying on the floor.

"David!" Dean yelled.

The boy appeared behind them. "Can you still feel him?" Dean asked.

David closed his eyes. Then, thankfully, he shook his head. "No."

The room was clear, save for an unconscious Jessica Anders. She was lying on the floor, bleeding from a gash above her eye.

Mac called for an ambulance as Stella stepped past the men and into the room to cradle the teen in her arms. "Jessica? Jessica, sweetie, wake up. It's okay. You're okay."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And once again, I'm in a hospital," Flack groaned.

"Maybe you just oughta move in," Stella suggested. The two were standing outside Jessica's room. The girl was fine, just asleep. She had a few cuts and bruises and maybe a slight concussion, being kept overnight for observation, but was otherwise all right. Her foster parents, despite Stella's call, had not shown up.

"No thanks," Flack replied. "I've got a better place to be." He wound an arm around Stella's back and hugged her close. "Poor kid. Glad she'll be okay."

"I wanted to talk to you about that," Stella said. "I have no idea if social services would even consider it...but I wanted your opinion first."

"Uh...o-kay," Flack said slowly. "On what?"

"Jessica Anders turns eighteen in two years. If social services would let me...I want to, well...adopt her, I guess. Not officially, but support her, put her through school, give her a roof, a decent family environment. Well, I mean, as decent as it can get, what with me being on call at all hours and all that..." She looked up at him. "What do you think? I wanted to ask you because...I wasn't sure how her being at my apartment would affect us."

"What do you mean, _affect_ us?" Flack asked her. "Stella, I love you. I think that you'd be the best role model there is for that girl. And besides, she's kinda growing on me. Especially if she keeps making that chicken Kiev, 'cause that stuff was amazing!"

"But you'd be okay with it?"

"Absolutely." Flack smiled. "I mean, I guess it would be good training for when we...I mean...if we..." He stopped; sure he'd stuck his foot in his mouth. "Did that make any sense?

Stella smiled and turned a faint pink. "I understood perfectly."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We're in your debt again, Dean," Mac was telling the Winchesters. They were standing outside the hospital, Dean leaning against his car. "Thanks."

"We'll stay in town a while, so when they bury the guy, we make sure he's cremated. Should keep him from comin' back," Sam explained. He looked at his brother. "And then, sorry, but if I never see NYC again, it'll be too soon."

"You're always welcome in my lab," Mac told the brothers. He noticed Peyton standing inside, staring blankly out the waiting room window. "See you around," he told them, before excusing himself to go talk to her.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. "Don't say it," Sam warned his brother.

But Dean couldn't resist. "Awww..."

His brother punched him the shoulder. "Shut up." Sam shook his head as he crawled into the passenger seat. "That was the strangest job we've ever had," he said.

"I love this town," was Dean's response. "Come on, we got one more thing to clear up."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Peyton."

She didn't turn around. She continued to look out the window. Mac looped an arm through hers. She barely noticed. "Peyton. It takes some getting used to," Mac said simply.

She finally turned. "How do you cope with your world turning upside down?" she asked him.

He pulled her close. "Leaning on your friends," he said simply. She buried her head in his shoulder as the rain began to fall.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unbeknownst to his co-workers, Danny Messer was two floors below them. Louie Messer looked peaceful as he lay in the hospital bed hooked up to the machines that were keeping him alive. Danny couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for Louie's condition. But he pushed all those thoughts from his mind, as if Louie could somehow sense it.

"Hi, Louie." Danny had to stop and take a breath before he continued. "I'm sorry I ain't been by to see ya in a while. Things got a little...uh, _interesting_ at work the past couple weeks. Anyhow... So I'm gettin' married." He smiled. "She's amazing, Louie. Her name's Lindsay Monroe. She's from Montana. Yeah, a cowgirl, I know, but Louie, the woman...she's amazing. She's smart, sexy as hell, she can put up with me. You know how much of a pain in the ass that is." Unconsciously, he reached for his brother's hand and took it in his. "The date's gonna be in October. It's comin' real fast. She's trying to pull it all together. She's cute when she's stressed. I don't even know if I'm gettin' married in Montana or New York City." He smiled at the thought. "Who'da thought, huh, Louie? Mama always thought you'd get married before I would. But you...ya sorta got tied up with Tanglewood. But...ah...let's not go there tonight, huh?"

He sighed. "Anyway, I came here tonight to tell ya...Louie, you know I want you for my best man. I had it planned that way since I was old enough to like girls. But...it looks like that might not happen. I mean, I'm still hopin' you're gonna wake up one day and we'll go back to bickering like brothers should and you callin' me shrimp an' all that." He was getting off topic. This wouldn't be as hard if Louie could talk back to him. "So, I asked Don Flack to be my best man. He's been like a brother to me since high school. He's not you, I know. But I was sorta hopin' you'd understand the position I'm in, y'know? Flack's a great guy, and he knows he's second best, but he gets it, right?" Danny took a breath. "I know you can't answer me back. But I felt like I should be gettin' your permission. I got Dad's blessing, so I was hoping I'd get yours, too."

He took a minute. He wasn't really expecting an answer. He was trained in science. He knew the odds of Louie being able to hear him.

And yet, he couldn't be sure, but he thought he felt Louie's fingers tighten on his.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dude, it's freakin' windy, cold and I'm soaked," Sam complained, pulling his jacket closer around him. "Give it up, there's no sea monster here."

"What better time to show up than when people probably aren't looking?" Dean countered, staring out at the Hudson. Rain echoed off everything.

"Screw this," Sam said. "I'll be in the car with the heater on." He turned to get back in the car.

Something very large splashed behind him. A bright flash went off.

Sam turned.

Dean was holding a camera, a cat-ate-the-canary grin on his face.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY, they are property of Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. I also don't own Sam and Dean or the Impala, they belong to the WB and Eric Kripke.**

**Author's Note: Honestly, I'm not proud of the case resolution, but happy with the rest of the finale. I think my next story will be a lot lighter...a double wedding, maybe? Thanks to all who reviewed, I apologize for the long wait and a not-so-great finale. Next one'll be better.**


	13. TAG SCENE ending

**_Disclaimer:_ I don't own the characters of CSI:NY, they belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. I also don't own the Supernatural boys, they belong to Eric Kripke and the WB.**

**Author's Note: I'm sure everybody is wondering "Why in the world am I getting THIS story on alert?" Well, the truth is, I was thinking about it, and I realized I wasn't happy with the ending. So consider this an extended scene. For all the hell Flack's gotten from Dean, he needs to have revenge.**

**_Last chapter..._**

"Dude, it's freakin' windy, cold and I'm soaked," Sam complained, pulling his jacket closer around him. "Give it up, there's no sea monster here."

"What better time to show up than when people probably aren't looking?" Dean countered, staring out at the Hudson. Rain echoed off everything.

"Screw this," Sam said. "I'll be in the car with the heater on." He turned to get back in the car.

Something very large splashed behind him. A bright flash went off.

Sam turned.

Dean was holding a camera, a cat-ate-the-canary grin on his face.

* * *

A little way down the dock from them, Danny Messer was seated on the bow of someone's pleasure yacht. Flashlight in hand, he looked back at the dock, where Don Flack was seated behind a pile of crates and fishing nets. He had one hand over his mouth, suppressing uncontrollable laughter. _Do it again_, he mouthed to Danny. Danny grinned as he tossed another twenty pound weight into the river and then flattened himself on the bow of the boat.

He heard the Winchesters yell and saw a bright flash. "Hell yeah, Sammy, we're gonna be rich!" the oldest brother, Dean was yelling.

"No freakin' way!" Sam was saying. "There is no frickin' sea monster in that river!" The wind carried their conversation perfectly down to where Danny and Flack were laughing silently, Flack pleased as hell to know he's finally pulled one over on Dean Winchester in revenge.

Danny slid off the boat and crawled down the dock to Flack's hiding place. "You are _so_ bad," he told his friend.

Flack winked. "There's no monster in that river, Danny. Just the one sitting in front of you right now."

"You're an evil SOB," Danny replied.

Flack raised his eyebrows. "Then they should be used to dealing with people like me," he said.

* * *

**Ok, truth be told, I'm suffering SERIOUS writer's block right now. This is all I've got after what, how many months since I've written something? But I couldn't get this off my mind. I see you laughing, rolling your eyes. I'll take ideas. Sequels, Night Shift games, period pieces, anything?**


End file.
